Killing in the Name
by StarlightNights
Summary: How far would you go to protect the ones you love? Lie? Cheat? Steal? Kill? With a knife in hand, five sets of eyes stared in disbelief. A question of ethics and morals weighing heavily on our minds? How had we let it get this far? AU-AH
1. Prologue: The Answer to All of My Pain

**Prologue**

**The Answer to All of My Pain**

There are plenty of things I could tell you about my life. And looking back, I don't really know if there was of one thing specifically that would have led me to this. I've been a lot of places. And I've seen a lot of things. A lot of bad things. I've seen death and murder. I've seen good people die. I've seen bad guys get away. I've watched people come together and watched them fall apart. I've seen strong people crumble under pressure. I really have seen it all.

And sure, I've made my mistakes too. I've been with guys I shouldn't have. A lot of guys I shouldn't have. And sometimes I drink too much. I swear. I've stolen. Cheated. Lied. I've gotten into fights, sometimes just for the hell of it. I've even experimented with drugs a bit. And I thought that all of those things were almost normal things to do. Well, normal enough. Nothing about my life has been normal so I can't expect perfection. I'm not always a good person. I try my best on most days, but sometimes it's just not possible.

But was there really anything out there to lead me to this point? Were we really capable of murder? No matter how righteous we thought the cause was? We've almost all been witness to death before, myself included. After everything I've seen and done in my short life, was there anything that would really explain why I suddenly felt at home in the musty basement with the cool steel blade of a knife just inches away from a man's neck?

But I suppose this story, like any other, should start from the beginning. I never got to know my mother. When she was pregnant with me, doctors discovered she had cancer. Those same doctors advised her to terminate her pregnancy and seek treatment. Instead of saving her own life, she chose to have me. Insisting that the life of her unborn child was worth so much more than her own could ever be. I can't help but think that wherever she is, if she's looking down on me right now, she regrets that decision. After I was born, the doctors tried their best. There were surgeries and chemo and radiation. None of that helped. The cancer had spread. Almost six months after I was born, she died. You can argue from both sides but I believe that it was the first act of murder I ever committed. I may not have strangled the life from her myself but I had my part in it, even if I wasn't aware of it. From my point of conception, I was designated a killing machine. And as my story continues, my father, the chief of police in a small town, did his best to raise me on his own. From what I can remember, he did a very good job. I was well taken care of and he showed me a lot of love. He did everything right and somehow I still turned out so wrong. Maybe it's what came next that changed me for the worst. When I was 7 years old my father was shot and killed. You'd think that in a small peaceful town, you wouldn't have to worry about something like that. That even the chief of police would never have to so much as pull his weapon. The worst thing that he would have to face is petty theft, underage drinking, and small occurrences of vandalism. And for the most part, that was true. The shooting was a one-time thing. Mostly a case of wrong place, wrong time. It was a lover's quarrel. A woman cheating on her boyfriend. And when the boyfriend found out, he snapped, walked outside of his house with a loaded gun, found his girlfriend at her job, and threatened to start shooting. That woman was my nanny. I was held hostage, sobbing in my room, praying for someone to come and save me. Charlie of course responded and in his haste to insure my safety, he didn't follow standard protocol. He didn't stop, he didn't think. He just acted, and at the worst possible moment. When he stormed into the house, gun trained on the man's head, I chose that moment to walk into the room, distracting him just enough to lose his focus. And it got him killed. I got him killed. I was again responsible for someone's death.

So at the age of 7, I was an orphan. The courts hate to take children away from everything they know and try their best to place them with family. Only problem was, I had none. My parents had no brothers or sisters. My grandparents had all passed. I was alone.

My father's best friend Billy Black had offered to take me in and I was sent there. His place was a small house on the Quileute Indian reservation. I had been happy there. I had already spent a good amount of time there while Charlie went fishing with his buddies. His son Jacob was two years younger than me and we got along well. I think he partially understood me because when he was younger, he lost his mother. He shared, at least a little, in my pain. I was never mistreated there and enjoyed going to the school on the reservation. But when an agent for The Department of Child and Family Services showed up for a surprise inspection after I had been there for only three weeks, they didn't approve of the living arrangements. Because of the small space, I had to share a room with Jacob and that was against the state rules. Girls and boys had to have separate living spaces. The thin white sheet separating the room into halves didn't count. I had offered to claim my room as the living room, sleeping on the couch. Hell, at that point I probably would have slept in the bathtub to be able to stay with people who loved and cared for me the way they did. The agent only shook her head and told me to pack my things. I left that night with only a hasty goodbye.

The Blacks still send me a birthday card every year. And a small gift at Christmas. They even stop in from time to time to visit me. It's nice to have friends on the outside still. Friends that weren't yet jaded. Friends that still were able to see the good left in the world. Friends that had hope for a bright future filled with scholarships, college, marriage, and children.

From the Blacks I was sent to the local orphanage. Only I shouldn't say it like that. There is no such thing as an orphanage in the United States. That word is depressing and outdated. Now they're called Children's Homes. I guess it's supposed to sound more inviting. It's not a place for orphans. It's a happy place for happy children to live with other happy children. I wasn't happy and neither were most of the other people who lived there. While I was at Mercy's Children's Home I felt like an outcast amount outcasts, living among the children so broken and disillusioned that they weren't allowed outside to pollute the minds of anyone else.

During my stay at Mercy's, I found someone else who felt the same way; Mary Alice Brandon. But I only knew her as Alice. She was given the chance at life, just like I was, only to have everything taken from her so quickly. She was the same age as me. She was born a crack-baby to an unfit mother and an unknown father. She was taken from her home right after she was born. Over the years she had been bounced back and forth between Mercy's, foster parents, and with her mother and the boyfriend of the moment, for the short while her mother could stay clean and out of jail. I know that the times she spent with her mother were rough but she never talked about it. She carried those memories all for herself, scarring her mind, forever casting away her innocence. She would silently cry herself to sleep at night, always wondering why her mother chose drugs before her.

For as much as I disliked Mercy's, it was better than the foster homes they sent me to. Some of them were what you'd like to imagine. Happy couples unable to have children, taking in the strays. Cute suburban couples with an optimistic attitude, wanting to take in the forgotten, and do their part to make the world a better place. But becoming a parent to one of those children wasn't easy. They wanted cute babies. Cute, happy, and well adjusted babies. Young children and teens were always everyone's second choice, taken in out of desperation and pity. The families that took them in were quick to realize that those children were almost always damaged goods, too much trouble for what they were worth. No one wanted a broken and damaged child. No one wanted to have a child, like me, that would wake up in the middle of the night screaming from nightmares that no one could chase away.

Other homes were the things that nightmares are made of. Things I can't even begin to put into words. But at least those places were few and far between. At least that's what I'm told.

So I was bounced from home to home, never finding a perfect fit. Some tried more than others. Some did their best to care. Some only cared for the small paycheck that caring for me brought. Some saw damage right away and tried in vain to correct it. Others ignored it until they couldn't anymore. When I first started getting placed in foster homes, I tried. I put on my happy face and tried to make it work. But I always failed. I wasn't happy. Eventually I gave up. I stopped pretending. I stopped caring. I floated through life, taking the easiest path ahead of me. Maybe that's where I went wrong. The world stopped caring about me. And I stopped caring about the world. But the end was always the same, I would be sent back to Mercy's, and Alice would be waiting for me.

After a stay with a very nice family, I was sent back to Mercy's at age 10. Alice had another friend, Emmett McCarty. When he was 10, his parents surprised him during spring break by taking him on a camping trip. In the middle of the night, a bear found its way into their camping grounds and mauled his parents to death. Though he was only feet away in the same tent, he miraculously escaped without a scratch on him. All he was left with were the deep emotional scars of watching his parents die before his eyes. He spent the entire night scared and alone, huddled deep in the folds of the red tent, trembling in fright and waiting for someone to find him and take him away. He spent just over a year with a grandmother before she had a heart attack and then he was sent to Mercy's.

Slowly Emmett had developed into my first crush. We even tried a kiss before we realized that we would never be anything more than just friends. I always found him attractive, more for his personality than anything else. His deep brown eyes, wide smile, dimples, and short dark curls against his pale flesh didn't hurt at all. He was always tall and as he grew, he became intimidating to the outsiders, with his short temper and big muscles. But as we grew, the bonds developing between the three of us were that of siblings. Emmett, though only a year older than us, became our big brother. He was our protector and vowed to always be. I think it had a lot to do with him being there when his parents were killed and not being able to help them. He carried the guilt of their deaths on his back. He was there and even if he was just a child, he thought he should have fought, stood his ground, maybe saved their lives. And now he took every opportunity to fight someone. Every opponent to him was the bear that ruined his life. He always needed to prove that he could beat any adversary. Always standing up for someone or something. Always trying to redeem himself. Even if he didn't really have anything to redeem himself from. But he always carried the blame, even into adulthood.

Emmett was the hardest to place into foster homes. He spent too much time being angry and fighting. Always arguing with anyone about anything, usually with his fists. He always challenged authority and refused to respect it. It was almost as if he would rather spend his childhood inside the drab gray walls of Mercy's, wallowing in his self pity instead of being on the outside, trying to adjust to a normal and happy lifestyle. He would reject them and their lifestyles before they could abandon him, leaving him again just a scared and lonely kid. He often became so difficult for his foster families that they openly gave up on him, claiming him to be a lost cause. And even if he never showed any emotion, I knew that hurt him. No one wants to be hopeless.

The following year, we met Jasper Whitlock. His parents were killed in a car crash on their way to pick him up from a Boy Scout camping trip. Coincidentally, the very same campgrounds were Emmett's parents were killed. He had a larger than life personality and unbelievable charisma with a touch of rebellious nature. All the girls at Mercy's loved him, Alice included. But he ignored it. And even if he had a huge personality to the outside world we, his closest friends, could tell that wasn't the real Jasper. He had always been the quietest of us. He kept most of his thoughts to himself. He always said the right things and did the right things when he needed. But inside of him was a tortured soul, just like the rest of us. He found foster homes easily but his rebellious personality always led him back to us.

When I was 14, I met the stunningly beautiful and perfect 15-year-old Rosalie Hale. She fell into our group and immediately hated everyone and everything she saw. That is, until she saw Emmett. She immediately decided to love him. And she accepted Alice as her best friend. She mostly ignored Jasper. And decided she didn't really care for me at all. Her beauty made her popular. And her popularity made her rebellious. Before Mercy's, she sneaked out of the house in the middle of the night to go to a party and when she stumbled home in the morning, she found the house burnt down to the ground. Her father, noticing her absence in the middle of the night, was waiting for her return. He fell asleep with a smoldering cigarette in his hand. Her family and everything she owned went up in smoke, never to be seen again. The fact that she survived should have made her happy, but instead she was bitter and angry. Since then she used her beauty as a shield, something to hide behind. Maybe if all everyone saw was how beautiful she was on the outside, they couldn't see how broken she was on the inside. Despite her striking beauty she never found a foster family. Her beauty was just as intimidating as her attitude, scaring everyone away.

And the last member of our group was Edward Masen. He spent most of his childhood with a foster family. He didn't like to talk about it though. He was very private. And when he first arrived at Mercy's, I was placed in a foster home not getting a chance to meet him until after he had already befriended everyone else. The rest of the group had taken him in, somehow knowing that he needed us. And I suppose we needed him too.

For the most part Edward was relatively quiet and very intelligent. I was told that he was abandoned at a church as a newborn. But he never talked much about himself. He tried to keep his life private. Anything I knew about his past was mostly speculation or gossip. He found foster families easily. He played the game well. He followed their rules to stay on the outside. He did a very good job, he spent very little time at Mercy's. I guess you could say that Edward was our prodigy. Mathematically speaking, one of us would have to end up leading a normal life. Or as close to normal as you can get. And Edward was that one. Or at least we thought he was going to be before he disappeared. But I'll save that story for a little later.

What I remember most about Edward was just how beautiful he was. Every feature of his was perfect, as if he was sculpted out of marble by God himself. Soft green eyes. Bronze hair that always looked sexy and windblown. Pale skin and sharp features. I can't even really put his beauty into words. He was breath taking. I felt a connection to him almost immediately. But it seemed he didn't feel the same way towards me. He was so different when he was around me. Like he closed himself off and went on auto pilot.

Like Alice and I at the time, he was 16. And like most of us, he had seen things that made him wise beyond his 16 years. Age 16, what most people consider a perfect age, you walk the fine line between childhood and adulthood. You're still young and carefree and you get to be irresponsible like a child. But you have acquired enough knowledge and just enough freedom to be considered an adult. We were young and irresponsible but we weren't carefree. We were probably closer to adulthood than the average teen, we had seen and done much more than even most adults, but we didn't have the freedom. We weren't mature. We weren't even close. We made more mistakes than we should have. We pushed the envelope. We even used to sneak out of Mercy's late at night.

When we escaped the gray walls of Mercy's, Emmett and Rose found always found a skeevy place to have sex. Edward liked to disappear, never telling us what he was up to. I always assumed it was something I didn't want to know but I followed him once only to find him walk into a church. I assumed that was where he had been abandoned and he was facing some of his past so left him alone to slay his demons. If he needed help he knew where to find us. Jasper mostly wanted to be left alone but Alice would never let that happen. So Jasper, Alice, and I always walked through the city streets trying to find ways to amuse ourselves. Sometimes it was vandalism. Sometimes we got into fights. Sometimes we got stoned or drunk. Sometimes we bothered the prostitutes. Sometimes we looked for people to take to skeevy places and have sex with, because we were young and stupid, and we reveled in that fact. We liked to be young and stupid, we liked the way it felt because most days that's not how we felt. We didn't feel young or stupid. We felt old and damaged and mostly we acted like that too. So when we got the chance to be free we took full advantage of it. And then sometimes we would just sit in a park and talk. I liked those nights the best. And usually by the end of the night we'd all meet up in the park and get high, with the exception of Alice. She always stayed clean. I think that after seeing what drugs did to her mother she didn't want to become that same person. She would sit three feet back and watch us with sad and disapproving eyes. We often talked about what it would like to never go back. To just run away and figure everything else out latter. But before the sun would rise, we always found ourselves safely tucked back into our beds.

We were all so alike yet so different. We had all lost so much. We were all broken. And we all wanted someone to come and put us back together. But in the end we learned it was only us. There was no one there to put us back together. We'd just have to pick up the pieces and go on with our lives. We didn't need to be put back together. Together, we became glue. As long as we were together the glue holding the pieces of our damaged lives in place would stay. But it was our differences that made it work. We all played a part. Alice was an eternal optimist. Jasper was introverted but still managed a great presence. Emmett was a meathead with a temper. Rosalie was beautiful and stubborn and always the center of attention. And Edward was always… Edward. His story is so hard to tell because I don't think I really know it.

He was there and he would laugh and goof off with us. But he never really opened up to us. He kept his walls up and heavily guarded. I don't know why. He should have known to trust us. We trusted him with all of our deepest and darkest secrets. But that was just Edward. He seemed to want to keep everything bottled up. He wanted to keep his misery to himself. He never wanted to let it out. He was always suffering on the inside and no one knew why. Sometimes he was different, more normal. I could see it from a distance. He would start to let the walls down when I wasn't around. But as soon as I came too close he would clam up again. It was frustrating and annoying. He had no reason not to trust me. And when I finally built up the courage to confront him on why he avoided me so much, he didn't respond with words. He grabbed me forcefully and pulled me close to him allowing his lips to crash into mine. It wasn't my first kiss. Not by a long shot. But it was the best kiss I have ever had. Our lips moved together perfectly, our tongues danced to the music that was our heavy breathing. But just as soon as it had begun, it ended. He pulled away, whispering a quick and quiet apology before excusing himself. The next day he was sent to a new foster home. And I never saw him again.

When he turned 17, Emmett was emancipated and left us. Rosalie followed shortly after. Jasper joined the Army on his eighteenth birthday and was almost immediately deployed to Iraq. Edward had disappeared from the system before any of us got to say goodbye. And lastly, Alice and I left together. Our good grades had gotten us a scholarship for orphaned children at State College. Only problem was that we got so caught up in trying to live and experience a normal life that school now seemed unimportant.

Life on the outside was hard. We had a newfound freedom that we never even dreamed of before. We struggled to adjust to life in the outside world because we didn't really know what it was supposed to be like. We grew up knowing only pain. After a year we got full time jobs and an apartment together, leaving school uncompleted, just another distant memory in our long hard lives.

We all worked our hardest to better our lives. And we all kept in touch with one another, staying best friends. We all lived within a five-block radius. With the exception of Edward, who was still MIA. We assumed, like most children of the slightly flawed foster system, he was released to the streets to a hard life. Emmett and Rosalie moved in together, becoming engaged, and they seemed happy. When Jasper returned from his tour in Iraq, mentally broken down, Alice helped to nurse him back to health. He moved in with us immediately, since he had no where else to go. He had lost his charisma in the war. And he still struggles with nightmares and depression, never talking about all the horrible things he's seen, not even to Alice who has become not only his girlfriend but his lifeline.

Over the years of our adolescence we all made a lot of mistakes. Most of them small. Emmett's short temper and fighting. Rosalie's constant bitching and demeaning attitude. Alice's unwavering trust that always seemed to get her into trouble. Jasper's inability to let go and open up. My stubbornness. But as we grew, so did our problems. Some of it got us into a lot of trouble. Drugs. Sex. Violence. Money.

And that's where my story starts to catch up with me. At 23 years old, I am still unsure about who I am and what I want out of life. Same as my friends, or I should say family. That's really what they've become. In the absence of blood family we've bonded together to become a very dysfunctional family. We do holidays and things together. We yell at each other. We fight. But in the end we always get over it because that's how a family works. We love each other unconditionally. Even when we don't get along (which is always the case with Rose and I).

At the end of the day it's the five (or six including Edward, wherever he may be) of us struggling to overcome our histories. It's not an easy battle. It never is. But we're getting there. At least we were.

Things in life were as smooth as you could expect them to be for someone like me. But with a simple phone call everything had changed. One simple phone call changed the course of my life. That one phone call had me where I was right now. With blood on my hands.


	2. 1: I Got Tears

**Book One  
****Chapter 1  
****I Got Tears**

Though phone calls in the middle of the night weren't uncommon for me, that was the first one that had really upset me. When I had seen the caller ID on my cell I almost ignored it. Emmett could get himself out of trouble himself this time. And if he couldn't that's what Rosalie was supposed to be for. But years of friendship and Emmett always being there for me when I needed him changed my mind after only four rings. "This better be important, Em," I answered, my voice harsh and groggy from the interruption from my sleep. Sleep is very important to me. Especially since it so hard to come by.

It didn't take me long to see the full importance of this phone call. I quickly sat upright, forcing sleep to the very back of my mind. Emmett didn't even need to say a word to let me know it was a matter of life and death. His breathing was labored and irregular even before he spoke. "I did something stupid," his voice was shaky. I heard him inhale sharply and I almost thought that I heard a quiet sob and a sniffle. But of one thing I was sure, since I had known him Emmett had never shed a tear. Through broken hearts, broken promises, broken bones and everything in between Emmett had never once even shown an ounce of weakness. His eyes never even glistened with the hint of tears. He was far too much of a macho man for that. So I was at a loss for words to describe what I heard going from the other end of this phone call. Those sniffles and sobs couldn't possibly be from Emmett crying. There was nothing in this world that would be able to do that.

"What happened, Emmett?" All traces of sleep were far from my thoughts and my voice. I was already out of bed looking around the small room for my clothes. This was beginning to sound like a rescue mission.

"It's Rose," his voice was small and deflated. "She's in the hospital."

"What happened, Emmett," I repeated myself.

"They got to her, Bella." Now I was sure that I heard a sob come from him. It was a strange and unfamiliar sound to be matched with Emmett's voice. It almost sounded painful.

"Who? I can't help you, if you don't tell me anything," I frantically dressed as I spoke.

"Not now," Emmett spoke releasing a heavy sigh. "Just get here. Please. I need you. I need _all_ of you."

I agreed and pounded on the thin white wall separating my room from Alice and Jasper's. "Get dressed. We're leaving in five minutes," I shouted through the wall.

"What happened?" Alice asked appearing in my room in nothing but an oversized black T-shirt.

"Rose is in the hospital," I responded searching the small room for the keys to my truck.

"How is Emmett?" Jasper asked as he walked into my room fully dressed, handing jeans to Alice.

I shrugged. "I don't know. He just asked us to come." I lowered my gaze to the floor. "He didn't sound like himself."

"We should go," Jasper encouraged and led the way out the door.

I agreed and ran out to my old beat up truck. The three of us piled into it was a slightly uncomfortable fit for the three of us but was the only form of transportation we had so it worked. And for the first time in my life I wished that I had a vehicle that would be able to exceed the speed limit. I had pushed the truck to its very limits on my way to the hospital. We had spent the drive in silence. There weren't any words to say. We couldn't even begin to imagine if anything would happen to one of us. In the absence of our blood families we became a family all of our own. We had had our part to play in that and to think of us losing someone was devastating.

Rosalie and I had never been close. We were in the same group of friends, but we never really connected. I'm not really sure why. I think it has something to do with the fact that she thought me and Emmett had a past relationship. And we almost did. But that was a long time ago. Long before he ever met her. So long ago that both of us have really all but forgotten about it. Now we're more like siblings than anything. But despite our differences, Rosalie and I each put on a brave face and pretended to be friends when we were together. At least we try our best. But even if we weren't best friends, I was still saddened to hear the news that she was in the hospital. I would of course be there for her. I would do whatever I could in my power to help her.

I haphazardly parked the truck in my haste, taking up two parking spaces but that didn't matter. My mind was racing, filling with morbid scenarios. I just let my legs move me forward as fast as they could. If it was bad enough to make Emmett cry... I don't even want to think about it.

As soon as I had passed through the sliding glass doors of the hospital, my eyes scanned the room looking for him. When we didn't find him we settled into a dark corner far from the eyes and ears of everyone else in the waiting room. It was late and it was nearly empty but it was still better for us to discuss some things as privately as possible. "Emmett told me he did something stupid," I admitted softly. "Before he told me about Rosalie he said that he did something stupid."

Alice gasped, her mind jumping to the very conclusion I thought she would. "Emmett would never hurt Rosalie."

"I know that," I defended him. "I just don't know what he could be talking about," I explained. "I mean, he said that first. It means he feels guilty, right?" I asked to no one in particular. It's not like they would have any more insight than I did. But I changed my mind when my eyes settled on Jasper's reaction. The muscles in his face strained to keep a look of concerned confusion. His mouth was set in a hard line. His breathing was suddenly becoming a bit more labored. He knew something.

But before our conversation could go any farther Emmett approached our secluded corner. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot but he had done his best to remove all other traces of his sorrow from his face. "Thanks for coming."

"What happened?" I asked.

"How is she?" Alice questioned.

"How are you?" Jasper added.

Emmett took a long calming breath before speaking softly, "She's doing better. I guess it looked a lot worse than it was."

"What does that mean?" Alice asked becoming the voice for all of us.

Emmett shook his head. "Not here."

"Emmett," Alice began, "We all drove here in the middle of the night because you asked us to. No questions asked. And now you won't even tell us what's going on?" Her voice was stern and angry. Alice might be one of the most petite girls you will meet, but she can be very intimidating. Emmett looked to the floor and I saw him struggle to keep his breathing calm.

"Alice, let's give him some time," Jasper spoke slowly pulling his girlfriend in closer to him. From the corner of my eye I could see Jasper give Emmett a knowing look. There's definitely something weird going on.

Emmett released a heavy sigh. "Not here. Not now," he said running his fingers through his hair. "Let me finish up here and we can meet back at the bar later. I think we're going to need it."

"Emmett," Alice groaned. She always hated not knowing things.

Jasper tightened his grip on Alice, offering her reassurance and support, as he nodded his head. "Come on, let's get home and clean up."

"Can I see her?" Alice questioned, finally done pressing Emmett for information. We all knew he is far too stubborn and no amount of persuading was going to get him to change his mind.

Emmett chewed on his bottom lip and nodded his head. "Just remember that it's not as bad as it looks. That's what her doctors keep telling me." He led us down the hallway slowly pausing outside the door but not following us in.

Alice immediately went to Rosalie's bedside her small fingers intertwining with Rosalie's. Jasper took in a sharp breath before heading back out the door. I stood by the door and stared. I was unable to move. I was used to seeing Rosalie complete with make-up, flawless hair. I had never seen her less than perfect looking. Even at her worst she still made me look plain. And there she was, lying in that bed looking as if she already had one foot in the grave. She might look like death but the steady and soft rise and fall of her chest and the rhythmic beeping of the machines she was hooked up to reminded everyone that the battered and broken girl lying in the bed was in fact still alive. Her face was covered with bruises and cuts. It didn't look like the rest of her body had fared any better. There were bandages and stitches and gauze soaked in blood. And one plain white cast on her right wrist.

I stayed rooted in place watching Alice gently squeeze Rosalie's hand. Her small fingers worked through Rosalie's golden hair, trying to find and erase the knots. She tried to hold back her grimace when her fingers tangled in a patch of dried blood. Alice was trying her best to keep on a brave face even if Rosalie was still out cold. "It will all be okay," she cooed in Rosalie's ear. "It will all go away. It will all get better. I promise. Just stay strong. I will do everything I can to fix this. I will fix you," she said and whispered a few more words of encouragement and walked out of the room leaving me alone.

I took long strides across the room and the closer I got the worse Rose seemed to look. Some of the scrapes on her face looked deep enough to leave scarring. And if that is the case I'm sure that Rose will wake up wondering why she didn't just die in whatever accident she had been in. I'm sure that Rose would rather be dead than have her beauty taken from her. She thinks it's all she has.

I took her chart from the bottom of her bed and started to read the notes. Since no one seemed to be talking I had to get some answers from somewhere. I read through the information quickly, I didn't want to be in that room longer than I had to. No one liked to be in a hospital, they reek of suffering and death. I had had enough of that from my own life. Her chart was filled with a bunch of medical jibberish. Simple things given complicated names. Minor loss of blood. Lacerations and contusions sustained over face and body. Abrasions on knuckles. Distal radial fracture and fractured second and third middle phalanx to right side. Possible minor brain trauma, extent unknown until patient wakes. Fetal injuries expected to be fatal. Patient in critical but stable condition. Injuries only partially consistent with a fall, question about possible abuse (boyfriend) when wakes. Consult on call, prepped on case.

I took a deep breath, replacing her chart to its place at the foot of her bed. I didn't like a single thing that was written in her chart. Some of it I understood. But some of it made no sense. Like the part where they suspected some kind of abuse from Emmett. As big and burly and angry as he could be, I know for a fact that he would never hurt Rose. He would never hurt anyone that didn't wholly deserve it. But the shallow scrapes on her knuckles gave something away. I had had that injury several times in my life. And it always ended and began in the same way. A fight. I held her fragile fingers in my hands carefully. You only get those if you're fighting someone or if you're fighting someone off.

I placed her band delicately back onto the hospital bed and felt a wave of sympathy ripple through me. It was the first time I had ever felt sorry for Rose. In that moment I pitied her. Someone had hurt her. And hurt her badly. Whoever did this knew what they were doing. The one thing that she had, the only thing she ever cared about having was taken from her. Her beauty was gone. And I had no idea if she was ever going to get it back.

In all the years I had known her Rose had always seemed so put together and in control, never in need of someone to care for her or to protect her. But now as she lay in her hospital bed, her skin so pallid that she almost matched the stark white sheets, she looked small, fragile and innocent. Words never before used to describe Rosalie. And taking everything into consideration I made a decision that would impact the rest of my life. I had never been close to Rosalie and I had begun to regret that. I would do everything in my power to fix that. I wanted to be her friend. And in being my friend, I felt the need to protect her. As I again studied her damaged body anger boiled in my veins and my instinct to protect turned to the desire for revenge. Whoever had hurt Rose was going to be punished. "I'm sorry," I said softly and left the room.

I walked to find tiny little Alice having backed big burly Emmett up into a corner. "What did you do?" she shouted at him, pushing into his chest. "I really didn't think you could do it. But you did, didn't you?" Emmett didn't fight back, he just took it like he thought he deserved it. "Did you do it because you found out she was pregnant?" The footnote on Rosalie's chart finally made sense. Fetal injuries expected to be fatal. A baby. Emmett and Rosalie were going to have a baby. Rosalie was pregnant but because of her extensive injuries, the baby wasn't going to make it. How did Alice know before me? We aren't supposed to keep secrets. Friends and family don't do that. Why am I always the last to know things?

Jasper and Emmett's eyes widen. So that's not whatever Jasper knew. And at least I wasn't the last one to know. "How did you know that?" Emmett said with a soft breath. "We agreed not to tell anyone yet."

"I can't believe you," Alice seethed. "I honestly didn't think you could ever hurt someone that didn't absolutely deserve it."

Emmett looked to the freshly polished tiles of the hospital floor. "I didn't hurt Rose. I could never hurt her."

"Then what the hell happened? She sure as shirt didn't fall down a flight of stairs," she continued to shout at Emmett. "We promised. We promised each other a long long time ago that we wouldn't lie to each other."

"Alice," Jasper intervened. "Emmett isn't lying to you."

"You too?" she accused, her brown eyes grew wide as she glared at her boyfriend. "You're lying to me too? What do you know?" she demanded.

He shook his head and ran his fingers through his golden blonde locks. "Not much. But I do know that Emmett wouldn't lie to us." Jasper looked over to Emmett and gave him a knowing nod. "I'm sure he has a very good reason for everything. And he's promised to tell us everything later at the bar," he said, wrapping his strong arms around Alice hoping to calm her. "Now let's let him wrap things up here. We'll go back home, take a shower, relax, grab a drink and wait for him. Okay?" His brown eyes locked with Alice's and as usual Alice caved in.

"Just promise me, no more lies," Alice demanded both men. They both nodded in agreement. No one wants to get on Alice's bad side. Emmett quickly walked away disappearing into Rosalie's room.

"Wow," I said finally announcing my presence. "That was intense."

Alice turned to me and glared. "Do you know what's going on?" she accused.

I shook my head, "Not a fucking clue." Alice turned and began to stalk out of the building. I turned to Jasper. "What do you know?"

He only shook his head, leading me towards the door. "Emmett will tell us."

"But you know something."

Again he shook his head. "Emmett did something stupid," He explained. When I glared at him, waiting for him to elaborate he continued, "I don't know anything for sure. I just have an idea. Same as you."

I nodded as I walk out the door. "It's pretty fucked up." I shivered as a cool breeze tore at my exposed flesh.

Jasper laughed as he lit a cigarette and handed it to me. He spoke as he lit another, "What about our lives isn't?" We climbed into the truck and spent the drive home in complete silence.


	3. 2: We Don't Want to Hear the Things

**Chapter 2**

**We Don't Want to Hear the Things We Know You're Going to Say**

When we were finally home it was 5 am. Alice was still silently brooding. Jasper was keeping quiet but trying his best to placate Alice. And I needed to get out. I pulled my hair back into a messy ponytail, grabbed my black leather jacket and walked out into the quiet streets. I was sure that somewhere in my head, I had all the pieces to this puzzle, I just had to work it out for a few minutes.

Emmett did something stupid, that in itself isn't unusual. He was always doing something stupid and getting himself into trouble. But the way he had said it over the phone, it implied so much more. The fact that he had said it before anything else meant that he somehow felt responsible for Rosalie's injuries. Right? Rosalie was in the hospital. Emmett had told the doctors she had fallen down a flight of stairs. That didn't match up. They were on the first floor of their apartment building. No stairs. And at that time of night they wouldn't have been anywhere but at home. At least they shouldn't have been especially with Rosalie being pregnant. Or at least she was, before whatever happened to her. The scrapes on her knuckles meant she was fighting with someone. Was it anger that made her throw those punches or was it the instinct to protect herself? Jasper thinks he knows something. And Alice probably already has it figured out because that is just what she does. She's like a goddamn psychic. And as usual, I'm the last to know.

How did all the pieces fit together? I sighed in defeat and turned around to head home. My thoughts were not getting any clearer out there. I thought that maybe large amounts of alcohol would help to influence my thoughts. I pulled my black leather jacket close to my body but refused to button it. It was a very unseasonably cold night in September. Or maybe it was just my imagination. That night was fucked up enough to mess with anyone's mind. Maybe it wasn't actually cold. Maybe I just thought it was.

I slowly approached both the house and bar I owned. The bottom floor was where I spent most of my time, running the bar. But the upstairs level was reserved for my sleeping. I owned the place only because I had won it in a very awkward hand of Texas Hold'em two years ago. And the closer I got the more surprised I became. I knew that Alice and Jasper would already be waiting for me. But I figured that they'd still be silently waiting for Emmett. Alice shooting daggers at Jasper, for keeping secrets from her, which is not an easy task to do. And Jasper would be doing his best to ignore her anger and drink himself into a stupor. So when I heard laughter float from under the door, I paused and listened. It was an unfamiliar man's voice. My anger immediately began to boil over. "What the fuck are you guys doing?" I shouted, walking into my place.

There was the sound of glass shattering as Jasper dropped the bottle of beer he was holding. "Jesus Christ, Bella, you scared the shit out of me. We were waiting on you," he explained casually. His tone made me want to hurt him.

I looked around the room, Emmett was absent still at the hospital tying up loose ends with Rose. Jasper was seated at the bar, his arm wrapped lovingly around Alice who now had the hint of a smile playing on her pixie like face. Not at all what I was expecting to walk home to. My eyes scanned the bar again and that is when I found it, the source for the out of place laughter. At the back of the bar hidden in the shadows was the unfamiliar man whose laughter I had heard. "And who the fuck are you?" I asked, taking a few angry steps towards the man.

Jasper stepped in front of me. As if to protect the man from my anger. "That's…" he paused, "an old friend," he explained softly, eyes looking away from me and down to the hard wood floors. Now what was the bastard hiding?

"Jazz," I groaned rolling my eyes. "You're only friends are already here. And we're kind of in the middle of a big issue. This wasn't an open invite for you to get drunk and invite your loser buddies."

"Come on, Bella," Jasper sighed massaging his temples. The stress of the day was wearing him down. The war had broken him down and things got to him so easily now. I almost always felt bad when I was talking to him. It was as if being around people and trying to act normal pained him most of the time. "We get it. You're an angry bitch. But please drop it for like one minute," he shouted at me, letting his temper get the post of him for just one second before he again shrunk away and sat beside Alice. His face then held a look of guilt and he refused to meet my eye again. I wish there was a drug that could take away all of his painful memories away and bring the old fun loving Jasper back.

"This is my bar, Jazz," I reminded him. "My beer."

Jasper exhaled loudly as he reached behind the bar, grabbing himself another beer. The beer helped to ease his nerves. "Bella, please-" his voice was softer, he fought to remain calm as he quickly swallowed his drink, his eyes still darted nervously around the room.

"Don't you start to fucking lecture me." I cut him off as I marched behind the bar. I wasn't in the mood to baby him today. He would just have to deal with it. "This has been a bad fucking day."

"It has for all of us," Alice spoke up with her soft twinkling voice. It never took long for her temper to die down. How she was always so calm having to put up with all our shit all the time, was beyond me.

"Don't start," I warned her. Her temper may have subsided but mine was just getting started. "Or I swear to God, you will never set foot in this bar again."

"Sweetie," she smiled at me, "You can't do that. I live here. And you love me."

Alice was right. I loved her. She was there for me through everything. Every stupid mistake I ever made, Alice was there right beside me. She may have been trying to talk me out of doing half of it, but she still followed along beside me anyway and offered her support. I ignored Alice and turned my attention back to the stranger. "Now let's get this dick out of here," I nodded to the stranger, "So we can get this shit started."

"He's cool," Jasper spoke up for the man.

"Excuse me?" I drew my brow letting my quick temper get the best of me. "No one is cool in this bar until I say they are." I poured myself a strong shot of whisky.

Alice spoke up before Jasper could intervene. "It's Edward. We've known him for years. You too, Bella. Don't you remember?" she said. Jasper eyed her nervously but she offered a reassuring nod. She honestly didn't expect me to believe that shit, did she? She paused for a moment hoping the information sink in. And when I didn't respond she offered a bit more information. "He's just…been away for awhile."

I quickly finished the shot and took a few steps towards the man. I stared closely at him and studied his features. It may have been years since I've seen him but every detail of his body, no matter how small it was, was still committed to my memory. Bronzed hair in a constant state of casual disarray. His sparkling emerald eyes. High cheekbones. Long, slender and straight nose. The sharp and strong edge of his jaw. And those lips. Those deliciously beautiful full lips always set in a firm pout. No denying it. This was Edward. Our Edward came back to us. And he was still the most beautiful man I've ever seen, that's for sure. But he had changed a lot. He had a few days worth of stubble grown on his chin but it worked for him. He made it look rugged and sexy. And as the recognition registered on my face, his mouth still curled up into a crooked smile that made my insides turn to Jell-O. "Hello, Bella," He says softly. Same velvety smooth voice.

"No shit," I gasped, trying to make my voice still sound harsh. "This is him? This is the Edward? The _friend_ that disappeared fucking years ago, making everyone think that he was dead, only to pop up now. At quite possibly the worst moment ever?"

"Yeah, I'm that Edward," he said softly before chugging the rest of his bottle of beer. He walked out of the shadows and over to me extending his hand.

I ignored his outstretched hand and poured two shots. "This is a far better way to say hello." I pushed one shot glass towards him and lifted my own. "Cheers," I said as we emptied our glasses in unison.

"So this is fun," Edward spoke, hoping to break the awkward silence that had descended on the room.

"You look different," I nodded to Edward. "Older. Mature. I probably wouldn't have recognized you," I lie. He may have changed but that that much. He's still the most gorgeous man ever and looking at him still made my heart skip a beat. No one else had ever done that to me.

"You too," he said. Our conversation as short and simple. His appearance may have changed over the years but his demeanor hadn't. He was still quiet and reserved. And he was still pushing me away. Just moments before I walked into the bar he was happy and laughing with Alice and Jasper. And with me present he hardly cracked a smile. I just didn't understand it.

"Where have you been?" I asked Edward.

He looked down to the bar and made a sour face. Alice saw his discomfort at my question and interjected, "Any news?"

I shook my head. She knew that I wouldn't have any yet. We were all waiting for Emmett to come and clear things up. But she was being her usual self, looking out for everyone around her. She knew Edward didn't want to talk about it so she offered him a temporary way out. And because we had more pressing issues at hand, I was willing to forget about it for the moment. "All I know is that Jazz has to clean up his mess," I gestured to the broken glass on the floor. "Other than that, we have to just wait for Em."

"So what's going on?" Edward asked, helping himself to another beer.

Alice began to open her mouth but I cut her off. "Let's let Emmett do all the talking. And, Jasper, seriously clean this fucking mess up. It's bad enough that you drink my beer without paying," I said trying to keep my emotions in check.

"You told us we could help ourselves," he said with a shrug.

"Yeah, sure. But you wasted almost a full beer. That's just criminal," I said. I crossed my arms and watched Jasper clean the broken glass from the floor. "None of you have ever drank this much before until it was all free."

"So, uh, I've been gone for awhile and I have no idea what's going on. I know you said we were going to wait for Emmett but can you at least give me something to go off of?" We all stared at each other but stayed silent. Edward broke the silence with his laughter. "This must be good. What did that stupid asshole do now?" Our somber faces must have given us away. "Shit," he cursed. "It's bad news."

"It's very fucking bad news," I said taking a long soothing drink of liquor straight from the bottle. I let the alcohol burn my throat and dull my senses before taking in a sharp breath. I felt the need to say something to ease the moment before we would all break down again. "Rosalie's in the hospital," I said softly, it's the only thing I was capable off saying without breaking down. "She looked pretty bad."

"Shit," Edward breathed. "I'm sorry. I just thought that… Emmett was always a little wild and got himself into trouble." He had no idea. "I never thought that… I'm sorry. That's horrible," he said with a frown.

I pulled a pack of cigarettes from below the bar and lit one up and offered them to my friends. Everyone but Alice pulled one from the pack. I poured four shots, one for each of us. "I don't drink," Alice reminded me.

"I know," I shrugged. "But there was never a better time to start than now," I offered it back to her but she pushed it away. I took it knowing that Alice was too stubborn to give in. And it was going to take a lot more than just one shot to help clear my head.

As we waited, a heavy silence filled the room as we all tried to drink and smoke our pain away at least for a moment. The back door swung open with great force as Emmett came in. "Let's do this thing so I can get back. I don't want to leave Rose for too long. I want to be there when she wakes up."

We all nodded in agreement and I poured some more shots for us. From the look on Emmett's face we're going to need it. Emmett finally noticed Edward sitting at the far end of the bar and nodded his hello. He didn't look the least bit surprised to see him there. Why was I the only one who didn't see this coming? And why did no one else care that he disappeared for years? "How much of the story did you get?" Emmett asked Edward softly.

"As far as really bad fucking news," Edward said, releasing a puff of smoke from his lungs. The smoke danced from between his beautiful lips mesmerizing me. My heart raced as my eyes traced every perfect feature of his face. It's been six years, I shouldn't still feel like this. It was a kiss. One small kiss. I've had my fair share of kisses since then. And I frequently shared more than just simple kisses with men. Kisses didn't satiate the lust and passion I had bottled up inside of me. So why hadn't they erased the feeling of his lips on mine since then? I didn't understand how I could still have a crush on him after all these years. I'm too old for crushes. And he's far too unreliable of a guy for me to fall for. What kind of person disappears for six years? Why did he have to be the one to make my heart skip a beat?

Emmett took his shot glass and quickly finished it before requesting another. I poured him four shots before he spoke again. "This was all my fault," he admitted softly. We all opened our mouths to yell but he held up his hand and stopped us. "I never laid a finger on her. But I did… I did something stupid." We waited on baited breath for him to continue. "I lost my job awhile back. It's always been hard for me to be the normal guy doing normal things. Keeping my anger in check was always an issue but I was doing it. I was doing really good there for awhile. It even looked like I might get promoted. And then it happened, like it always does," he took a deep breath and paused a moment to gather his thoughts. "There were these assholes that wouldn't stop talking and shit. You know the type. Arrogant little pricks. No one likes them because they're annoying little fucks but they don't see that. So they take it out on people. Bullies. Big fucking bullies. Classic little man syndrome." He took a long puff on his cigarette. "

I was doing good ignoring them, then one day Rose come to see me and work and they were giving her a hard time and shit. You know Rose, she doesn't let shit get to her. She's though and independent and whatever. But she was upset. And if what they said upset her, it must have been…" he trailed off and let the subject die. He didn't want to say it and we didn't really want to hear it. We already had a good idea anyway. "After she left I found those guys and… to make the story short, I got in a fight and got fired. When I got home she told me she was pregnant. I couldn't tell her about getting fired then. I didn't have the heart. I didn't want to ruin her mood. We were having a baby and that was great," his voice broke at the mention of her pregnancy. "I tried to find something else, but no one was hiring. We needed the money. And I got desperate." We all sat on the edge of or chairs in silence. "I went to the Volturi."

We erupted in a chorus of cussing, mine probably the loudest. "What were you fucking thinking, Em? You could have come to me. To any of us. We would have helped you."

He bowed his head. "I know," he sighed. "It was stupid. I wasn't thinking and I panicked. They put me on their payroll as a 'problem solver'," he continued. "I solved a lot of problems with my fists." He took another shot. "Then they gave me another job and this one… I couldn't do it. I said no," he said softly, looking away. "They told me I would regret it. And I do. They used her to get revenge on me."

"What do we do?" Alice asked her voice both stern and soft at the same time. She was the only one I knew that could be both angle and devil in the same breath.

"When I came home and found Rose like that," he shuddered at the thought. "They left me a message for me. I either repay them everything they've ever given me or I do the last job. Then it would be done. I would be done. They wouldn't bother us again."

"How much money are we talking?" Jasper asked raising an eyebrow. "I keep an emergency stash of money. I figured it wouldn't be long before one or all of us ended up in jail and needed the bail money. But I think this would be a much better use for it."

"$250,000," Emmett said flatly.

We all nodded none of us was even close to having those kinds of funds available to us. I sighed heavily and licked my lips. "I could get most of that. They all looked to me with eyes wide with question. "I'd sell the bar."

"No," Emmett said shaking his head. "You're not selling the bar. You love this bar. We all love this bar."

"We love Rose more," I informed him, lighting another cigarette. "And it's my fucking bar. I'll sell it if I want to fucking sell it."

"It's your home," Emmett reminded me.

"You have a couch." I shrugged.

"Let's try something else first," Emmett tried to placate me.

"Like what? Have a car wash? Open a lemonade stand?" I scoffed, exhaling a giant could of smoke.

"I haven't thought that far ahead yet." Emmett shrugged, taking a long drink of his alcohol. "But there's got to be something."

"In case you've forgotten, there isn't time for something else." I rested my head on the bar counter. "Those guys aren't exactly patient people."

"What if we have a fundraiser here? Sell people tickets for all the beer and food you can handle. We'll get some sponsors to help us," Jasper tried.

"Sure." I nodded. "That will be an awesome way to get the $5,000 we'll need to cover the funeral expenses for these guys. Because that's about all we'll be able to raise. Probably not even. And who the hell are we going to get to sponsor us? It's not like we're raising money for a sick kid, we're trying to pay off the fucking mafia."

"Well, seeing as how we have two very attractive women," Edward started. "I say we become pimps and they become whores." We all stared at him blankly. "What?" he shrugged. "Too early for a joke?" He nodded. "Anyone care for more alcohol?" he offered up the bottle.

"Real funny, asshole," I finally broke the silence. "Let's get serious about this, please."

"How are we supposed to be serious about this?" Jasper scoffed. "We're never going to be able to come up with that kind of money. Not even close."

"What happened to the money?" Edward asked.

Emmett looked away uneasily. "I spent it. I finally got Rose the ring she wanted. I paid off some old debts. I was looking into buying a house but I had gone through the money. I thought I could just keep beating people up for it. I guess that backfired."

"What are we supposed to do?" Alice asked, her voice lost in worry.

"I guess I don't have a choice," Emmett sighed finally collapsing onto a bar stood. "I do their job."

A long silence fell over the room as everyone sipped their drinks, trying to think of the right thing to say. Was there even a right thing to say in a situation like this? Edward downed the last of his liquor in one quick drink then slammed his glad onto the counter. "What was the job?" Edward asked staring off into space blankly. "Maybe we could help you."

"No," Emmett said loudly, almost shouting it like an order. "Out of the question. This is my mess. I'm not getting you guys involved."

"We're already involved," Alice reminded him, batting her eyelashes sweetly.

Emmett continued to shake his head, refusing our help. "We're all done our share of stupid shit," I reminded him. "But were always there for each other. We always help bail one another out. That's what friends are for, right?"

"Not this time, Bella. I couldn't ask for your help."

We all stared at him, silently letting him know what is on our minds. "You're not asking," I said for all of us. "We're offering." This time he didn't argue.

"What's the job?" Alice asked.

"I can't… It's my…"

"What's the job?" Alice repeated her voice rising in warning.

He looked down to the bar top, carefully studying the grain of the wood. "They want me to kill someone."


	4. 3: Now Begins the Falling Out

**Chapter 3**

**Now Begins the Falling Out**

We all stared back at Emmett. No one knew what to say after that. No wonder he had refused that job. It's one thing to beat someone up. But it was a completely different story to kill them. "Yeah," Emmett released a heavy sigh. "That's what I thought."

I still didn't know how to respond to him so I kept my mouth shut and poured us another round of shots and I swore for a second I saw Alice's hand twitch and reach towards a glass. But in the end she kept her promise to avoid drinking at all costs and rest her hands back in her lap. The rest of us did our shots together and stayed uneasily quiet. How do you respond to a statement like that? I guess the answer is, you don't.

Alice was the first to break the silence. "Who is it?" she asked softly. "Who would you have to…" she trailed of unable to say the words.

Emmett again looked down to the bar top uneasily. "Three. There's three of them," his voice was shaking as he admitted just how far he has gotten entangled into the inner working of the mob. "Some kind of rivals to them. Less mafia, more gang-like. Rugged. Rebellious. Ruthless. Unpredictable. Dangerous."

"Are you really going to do it?" Alice asked. I looked to her in amazement. She seemed to be okay with this. Small, petite, sweet and stone cold sober Alice was actually entertaining the idea of one of her best friends murdering someone. I was halfway drunk and I was struggling with it.

"I don't know," Emmett said. His shoulders slumped and he stared off into the distance. "I don't see what choice I have," Emmett answered. "I can't just sit back and let them kill her. They're already… The baby is… She was just 10 weeks along and now…" he trailed off unable to finish. I saw his eyes glistening with the hint of tears as he struggled to keep his emotion in check.

"We could go to the police," Jasper suggested. It was a stupid suggestion. And even Jasper knew it was. But it was something that was required to be said.

Emmett stifled a laugh. "Don't you think that if the police had any power over the Volturi they'd have already stopped them?"

"You could run," Edward offered. Another stupid suggestion. But again, all the options at least needed to be considered. "Take Rosalie and get away from here. Be smart and they'd never find you. Plus, they'd forget about you quickly. It's not like you're a major threat to them or anything."

I snickered at his comment. Of course Edward would suggest running away. After all, he was an expert at disappearing. I bit my tongue to keep from lashing out at him. "Rosalie is in no condition to run and hide." I said with just a trace of bitterness in my voice. "And you don't get them do you? He doesn't have to be a threat for them to take action. He's disrespecting them. That's enough. They won't give up until they get what they want. It's how they work. If they promise to do something, they're going to do it. It doesn't matter how trivial it is."

There was a heavy pause that filled the room. All the stupid suggestions had been addressed. And no one was able to come up with any smart ones.

"Three people," Alice said quietly as if she's talking to herself. "Three dangerous people. People who have probably killed before and probably will kill again. Sacrifice three bad people to save one good person." She stayed quiet for a moment before her head snapped up. Her brown eyes grew wide with a sudden burst of wisdom. "You can't run. You can't hide. You don't have any other options," she said and we all wanted to roll our eyes at her. We had already come to these conclusions, she was a little late to the party. "And when you've eliminated all other options, you're left with…" she trailed off with a simple shrug of her petite shoulders. Surely I was far more drunk than I originally thought no one in this room, especially sweet and innocent Alice would substitute the word murder for a simple shrug of the shoulders. "You'll need help. We'll help you," her voice was strong and certain, as if she was simply telling a child she would help them with their homework. How could those words come from sweet little Alice? Sweet little Alice that hadn't even so much as had a drop of alcohol in her life now wanted to murder three people?

I was beyond drunk and now passed out in bed dreaming. That was the only explanation I had. Alice had refused to allow me to set up mouse traps in the cellar when we discovered them scurrying across the floor while restocking the bar after close. She had stayed awake all night, convinced that if she let the rat adjust to her presence it would allow her to catch it and release it back into the wild. Needless to say it didn't work. And I was forced to buy humane traps that wouldn't hurt him and then hand him over to her. She thought about keeping him as a pet but throughout even that would be to cruel and she let him go and make a new home in the outside world. So there is no way possible that the same girl that would not allow me to kill a rodent ruining my good alcohol stock could suggest murdering three people in cold blood.

I stood from my stool and stooped to the ground picking up a stray piece of glass from the shattered beer bottle Jasper dropped on the floor. I squeezed the brown glass in the palm of my hand and flinched in surprise when I felt it slice through my flesh. I opened my fist and watched the blood pool in the center of my hand. I was not dreaming.

"What?" Jasper asked, staring into his girlfriend's big brown eyes. "We're not killing anyone. No one is killing anyone. Not even Emmett." Jasper turned to look at Emmett for reassurance but didn't get it. "There has to be another way," he pleaded.

"No," my voice was soft as a whisper. I didn't look up to see their faces. Maybe it was the fact that Alice was so sure of the plan. Maybe it was the alcohol clouding my judgement. Maybe it was small pool of blood in the palm of my hand that was now holding my attention. I imagined how much blood would have to pour from someone's veins until they would be dead. And thinking about it didn't sicken me as much as I thought it would. I was now struck with a morbid curiosity to find the answer. So as I continued to think, it was all becoming more clear to me.

If Alice believed it, then I sure as hell could. Right? Besides, Rosalie deserved to live. And I'm sure the people who Emmett was supposed to kill didn't. The math was simple. The only way to keep Rosalie safe and alive was to do the unthinkable. But I bit my tongue to keep myself from expressing the thoughts rapidly going through my mind. In that moment my world had changed. I knew now that I was in fact capable of murdering a complete stranger. Someone that had never done anything to me to deserve it.

"I get it. It makes perfect sense." Alice said a smile playing on her lips. "Kill three to save one. Rosalie's life is worth so much more than theirs," Alice said echoing my sentiments almost exactly.

"Everyone's life has the same value," Edward jumped in.

"No," Alice defended her logic. "Those people are murders. They're monsters."

"And we wouldn't be any better if we did the same thing," Jasper added.

"We'd be doing the world a favor," Emmett said now becoming acquainted with the idea. Now that he had the support of at least one other person, the idea didn't seem so ridiculous anymore. And if we were willing to help him, well then, it would be downright easy to do. "We'd be saving lives. Get rid of three people that would only go on to kill more people. We wouldn't just be saving Rosalie, we'd be saving countless other lives."

"Vigilantism is a crime. Murder is a crime. You can't be seriously considering this?" Jasper asked staring wide eyed at everyone.

"Would you rather Rose die?" Alice asked, tears welling in her eyes threatening to spill over.

"Nothing is going to happen to Rose," Jasper consoled Alice.

"It already has," Emmett reminded him. "They've already killed our baby. Rosalie is next."

Edward cleared his throat loudly to get out attention. "Let's all stop and think about this. This isn't like picking out what movie we want to see at a theater."

"No, it's much more important than that," Alice interjected.

Edward sighed calming himself before he continued. "We're done talking about this today. We don't say another word. We've been drinking. Some of us quite a lot and maybe that's affecting our judgement. We haven't gotten any sleep and it's almost dawn. So let's take some time off. Get some sleep. Sober up. Think this through. Think of the alternatives. Think of the consequences. We'll meet here again in 36 hours, tomorrow night and take a vote," he suggested. "Majority wins."

We all nodded in agreement. And slowly things started to return to normal. We didn't discuss the concept of murder anymore. We avoided talking about Rosalie's condition. For just a few moments were all just a group of friends catching up. And it was all too soon that Emmett was ready to go back to the hospital and wait at Rosalie's bedside.

Alice had insisted on driving Emmett back to the hospital. He had drunk way too much for him to be safe behind the wheel. He was already mulling the idea of murder over in his mind, we didn't need him to do it on accident first. And Jasper, just being his normal overprotective self, was insisting on going with Alice. He had seen the evil in the world and felt it was his job to protect her from it. While his innocence had bee stripped a long time ago, she still held on to hers. And I don't think he feels comfortable being alone just yet. Whenever she leaves his side, he seems to unravel a little more. So it's rare to see those two apart. They both needed each other more than they would admit. Just by being close they brought one another comfort. And I know that he believed that if he stayed close to her, he would somehow be able to change her mind on the topic of murder.

So it was just Edward and I left alone. My head was already spinning, from both the conversation and the alcohol, filling with dark and morbid thoughts. I tried to ease them by turning my attention back to Edward. "Are you back for good or just passing through?" The question itself was meant to be harmless but as the words passed through my lips they sounded harsh.

"I don't know," Edward answered simply. "I can't really leave now. I should stay. For Rosalie." He finally turned to look at me. His green eyes radiated nothing but pain.

I nodded in agreement. "Where are you staying?" I asked, my voice loosing its acrid edge.

"I don't know," Edward said turning away from me. "I really wasn't planning…" He trailed off, suddenly disinterested in his statement.

I pulled another cigarette from my almost empty pack. "You could stay here," I said. The words had escaped me before I even knew I was thinking them. I paused to light the cigarette. "There's a small apartment of sorts upstairs. There are two small bedrooms. I have one and Alice and Jasper share the other. It's not much but I have a couch that pulls out into a pretty decent bed. You could stay there," I offered.

"Thank you," Edward mumbled through a yawn.

"We should sleep," I suggested. "It's been a long night." That was putting it mildly. I had been woken with a start after only an hour's sleep and every moment since then has put me on an emotional roller coaster. My body finally seemed to realize what I had done to it and was begging for sleep. I stood and stretched my weary limbs. Every joint seemed to crack at the movements and my muscles had stiffened and all but refused to propel me forward.

I grabbed a sheet of paper and a sharpie quickly writing a note excusing the bar being closed due to a family emergency and taped it to the outside of the door. "Come on," I beckoned to Edward. "Let's get you settled in." I led him through the kitchen and into a small hallway to the staircase. I quickly placed clean sheets on the bed and handed him a pile of blankets and pillows. "Help yourself to anything. And If you have questions or need anything my room is just down the hall. I'm a pretty heavy sleeper so I won't hear you knock. Just come in, I don't lock it," I said before disappearing behind the safety of my door.

I couldn't trust myself in Edward's presence. Because all of my old feelings for him were boiling over to the surface and it was the worst possible time for it. Rosalie was in the hospital, seriously injured. There was the threat of death hanging over her head. And now there was the possibility of murder. How could I, with all of that going through my head still find the time to fantasize about Edward? It didn't seem possible, but it was. I wanted nothing more than to pick up where we left off. I wanted for forget about his disappearance. I wanted to feel the brush of his lips against mine. I wanted to feel the heat of his body pressed against me. I wanted to run my fingers though his messy hair. I wanted to hear him breathe my name. I wanted everything else to slip away and leave nothing but the two of us. I wanted him.

I didn't think it would, but sleep came to me easily. It was staying asleep that was proving to be problematic. I found myself waking up to the strangest dreams. Some were more like old memories being played over again. Others were nightmares. Just quick flashes of disturbing images. Rosalie bloodied and beaten lying almost lifeless on the ground. Everyone dressed in black attending her funeral. Faceless monsters. Loud screaming. My hands covered in blood. Green eyes watching me.

I gave up at around noon, six hours of a miserable and staggered sleep would have to do. When I walked out of the room I found Edward already missing. Hopefully his morning had been easier than mine had. I tried my best to ignore the niggling thoughts in my head but I kept coming back to them. Wondering if he was gone for good, again running away and hiding from his friends. But I help on to the hope that he just needed some space. I forced myself to eat a bowl of cereal and shower quickly. Even if it didn't feel like it, I had the urge to act as if it was just any other day. But no matter what I tried, my mind kept going back to the events of last night.

Were any of us really capable of murder? I know that I always felt like I was. The deaths of my mother and father always plaguing my conscience. Emmett had always blamed himself for not being able to stop his parents death, Rosalie too. And even if she never said it out loud, I knew Alice blamed herself for her mother's overdose. She wanted to be loved by her mother so badly that while she was there she ignored the drug use and felt that she should have done something. Maybe that's why she is always acting like our mother. She was trying to protect us from ourselves before we got out of hand, something she couldn't do for her own mother. Why she always kept a clear head and a constant vigil over us when we were under the influence. And we all know that Jasper was a killer. He didn't talk about it at all. But when he woke up in the middle of the night screaming we knew what haunted his dreams. The lives he had taken while at war.

After an hour of restlessly cleaning the place I made up my mind rather quickly on wanting to visit Rosalie in the hospital. Considering the past seven hours passed by silently I assumed that there was no change. And I was going to take that as good news. I walked to Rosalie's room only to find it now occupied by a man in his late 40s shouting about his chest pains. It took me almost an hour to get things sorted out at the admission desks and find Rosalie's new room. Damn the family only rules that places like this always had. What about the people out there that don't have a family? What do we get?

I took the stairs needing the extra time to myself. When I reached the fifth floor Alice, Jasper, Edward and Emmett all congregating in the hall talking to a woman who I assumed was a nurse. I'm always the last one to the party. I took a few steps closer and my feet froze. The woman in their presence was a doctor, one that I had known very well over the years. But she wasn't the kind of doctor I was expecting. "Dr. Cullen?" I asked drawing my brow. She turned to me and I knew that I was right. Her stunning beauty gave her away. Beautiful waves of golden brown hair, fair skin with perfect complexion, soft green eyes that were now outlined with the smallest hint of crow's feet, and the warmest and most sincere smile ever.

"Bella," she said as her bright smile spreads across her face. She closed the distance between us and pulls me in for a hug. Her embrace was warm and filled with love. The kind of hug you'd expect to get from your mother while being reunited after a long absence. "Haven't I told you to call me Esme?"

"I'm sorry," I apologized. "It took me by surprise is all."

Esme had worked at Mercy's children's hospital while we were all there. She was the psychologist they had on staff. With a bunch of orphans that were all pretty whacked in the head, she was a necessity. There were others but they were different. She was a godsend. Esme was kind and gentle. She never talked down to us. She never made me feel inadequate. She always listened. And when I left her office I always felt better. She was the only steady mother figure I had ever had in my life.

After being released to the real world she and her husband Carlisle, who had been our resident general practitioner, had stayed in touch with us. They had become sort of surrogate parents to us. Sharing in our joys and our failures. Expressing their disappointment in us when we made our mistakes. Occasionally they'd invite us all over for a holiday. Sometimes we could trick ourselves into believing that it was a real family. I don't know why they took us in the way they did. They never had children of their own, I think that was why they chose to take the job at Mercy's instead of opening a private practice that would pay them a lot more money. They had seen thousands of children come through their offices through Mercy's but for some reason it was the six of us that made some kind of lasting impression on them. And them on us as well. And looking into Esme's loving eyes now almost made me feel guilty that I hadn't thought to call her already.

"What are you doing here?" I asked her.

"Alice called us." She turned to look at Alice, giving her a sad smile. "She told us what happened to Rosalie. You must be devastated. She was like your sister," she said to all of us. "Carlisle is inside examining her."

And as if he had heard his name Carlisle opened the door with a big smile, his white lab coat billowing behind him. He beckoned for us to join him in the room. He closed the door behind us and let his carefully guarded doctor personality slip off of him. His smile faded and was replaced by a stern gaze a father would give his misbehaving child. He ran his long fingers through his honey blonde hair before crossing them over his chest. "Someone needs to tell me the truth," his voice was heavy and full of warning.

Emmett looked at the wall behind Carlisle. Alice looked to Esme and softly complimented the blouse she was wearing. Edward looked at his feet and kicked them idly. Jasper's body shuddered as he stared at Rosalie lying in her bed. And my eyes darted around the room trying to find a safe place to look.

Carlisle snorted softly and stomped over to Rosalie's bedside. His brow was drawn in anger, causing worry lines to appear all over his face. "She did not fall down a flight of stairs," he shouted loud enough for us only to hear. His chest heaved as he pulled in angry breaths. "I know that. And if these doctors know a damn thing they know that too. They aren't going to let that go unnoticed. I'm surprised they haven't called the police already." Carlisle paused to catch his breath. "Now someone tell me what's going on?"

"Carlisle," Esme breathed bringing her hands up to her chest. "What in Gods name are you saying?"

Carlisle didn't look to his wife as he answered. Instead he stared at each and every one of us with a smoldering gaze that made me want to sink into the wall and disappear. "I'm saying that they've lied about what happened to Rosalie. She didn't fall down the stairs. And if I'm going to be her not only her doctor on this case, but also help them with whatever they've gotten themselves into. I want the truth."

"Then maybe you shouldn't be a doctor on this case," Emmett said. His voice was soft and frail and he refused to meet Carlisle's look. I had never seen Emmett be intimidated by someone before. But the look in his eyes right now was nothing but trepidation.

Anger flashed in Carlisle's eyes for just one second before he took in a deep breath to calm himself. How he was always able to keep his cool way well beyond me. He took a few steps closer and placed his hands gently on Emmett's shoulders and forced him to look in the eyes. "I can help you. That's why you called me," he pleaded. "But if you want my help. You have to tell me what happened."

Emmett quickly looked away again so I stepped in. "It's no secret that Rose and I didn't get along," I say quickly, trying to think of anything that would explain away her injuries.

"Bella, no," Alice interjected. Somehow knowing my plan and trying to put a stop to it.

I shook my head and gave her a quick glance letting her know I was okay with what I was doing. "We got in a stupid fight. We yelled. Then it got physical," I explained, crossing my arms across my chest. I held the muscles on my face tightly to keep my emotions from giving me away. "It's happened before. It's no big deal. We fought. And somewhere in the process she fell, maybe I pushed her, I don't know. It happened… it happened so fast. She fell down the stairs. It was an accident," I looked up to see everyone staring at me wide eyed. "I'm sorry."

"Bella…" Edward breathed a warning.

"It's okay," I said softly not meeting anyone's gaze. "What else are we going to say?"

"No," Emmett agreed. "Bella, you're not taking the blame for this."

"What else are we going to do?" I argued.

"Just tell the truth," Edward spoke.

"Enough!" Carlisle shouted, finally letting his anger take control to silence our bickering.

"Carlisle, they're just children." Esme shouted. "Don't yell at them."

An awkward silence fell upon the room before Jasper finally spoke up. "No, Esme. We stopped being children a long time ago." He looked away in shame and embarrassment. Esme was probably the only person Jasper had ever confided in. About his childhood, growing up and even his part in the war. She of all people should know that we weren't children. She had heard our very adult content stories over the years. Children didn't do drugs and have promiscuous sex. Children didn't go off to war. Children didn't think about killing people.

"Sure you've grown and matured physically. I know you are capable of making your own decisions. And you're fully responsible for your own lives. Believe me, I know that. I can see that. I've heard all about your pasts. I listened. I always listen. But you may as well still be children in the emotional sense. I know you. I know _all_ of you very well. We've had some very intimate discussions over the years. And I know how much your being held back by your pasts. And I can't blame you. You've all seen and done things that are very difficult to get over. And it's not your fault. You're all very strong to have made it this far in life. But sometimes things catch up with you. And it seems that we've gotten there. So no, I will still think of you as children because I do know you so well. And I know that you are far from being a completely mature adult."

Emmett rocked unsteady on his feet. "We might be emotionally stunted or whatever you're trying to tell us, Esme," Emmett responded. "But we're still adults. And we've gotten ourselves into some shit, yeah, but we've done it before. And it's always turned out all right. We will figure it out ourselves. Like adults do. Like we should do. Maybe finally prove ourselves to you."

"That's not what I'm saying," Esme sighed. "I care for you. I _love_ you. And I know you're capable of doing things but… I know you have your doubts. You might not address it, but you do. Why else would you call us and ask for our help?" Esme pleaded, fully taking on the part of our mother.

The room filled with a heavy silence. But we all welcomed it, needing the break to calm ourselves and collect our thoughts.

Carlisle was the first to speak. "If I don't get some honest answers in the next thirty seconds, I am going to walk out of here," Carlisle's voice had returned to a normal level. "I made a promise to you kids a long time ago. I promised to always be there for you. And I'm going to stick to my promise. But I can't help you if I don't know what is going on. Please let us help you."

His pleading eyes and gentle voice broke down our walls and Emmett again told his story, albeit this time around it was much shorter and stopped before the mention of murder. Carlisle may be a very understand man and he may claim to want the truth but no one wanted to know those details. Everyone who knew that part was weighed down heavily with its burden.

Esme let silent tears fall down her creamy white cheeks but she remained silent. Carlisle took in a couple of heavy breaths but remained calm. "Thank you for the truth," he said softly. After a confession of Emmett's magnitude, I was expecting something much more than that. Some anger? Some yelling? Some hatred? Anything other than what we got. That seemed way too simple.

"Oh, Emmett," Esme said wrapping her arms around the much larger man. "You should have come to us sooner. We would have helped you."

"I'm sorry. I was stupid. I'm always being stupid." He hung his head down in shame. "I was just trying to be the best for her."

Esme shook her head. "Stop torturing yourself. You can't always be the knight in shinning armor."

Carlisle interrupted. "I will help to fix things here. I'll give the doctors a better cover story and you will stick to whatever I say. And you will never, _never_ do something like that again. Those people are very dangerous. And I know you think that you can handle anything Emmett, but just look at Rosalie. You might not have a lot of respect for yourself for whatever reason but you should. You can't do everything alone. No one can. And if that's not enough, I know you think that you're invincible but Rose isn't." He exhaled heavily. "So the next time any of you think you're in some kind of trouble, call before this happens. Do you understand?" His voice was heavily laced with the threat.

"Yes," we all said softly in unison.

"You will never keep something like this from me and my wife again. She is right. We made a promise to you and we intend on keeping it. But if you ever so much as think of doing something that stupid again, I swear that the only help you will get from us will be to put you in prison where you might actually learn your lessons." And just like that, it faded away not to be talked about again in the walls of the hospital. Carlisle's fatherly stance changed and he was again Dr. Cullen. He released a long breath and again studied Rosalie's body. "I know a good plastic surgeon. He owes me a favor. I should be able to get him to do Rosalie's facial reconstruction for free. It should take care of most of the scarring."

"Most?" Emmett asked his voice heavy with sadness and uncertainty.

"I can't say. I never did much with cosmetics. But he'll be able to give you all the answers you need. I'll give him a call as soon as she wakes up. I hope you've learned your lesson now," he said the father inside of him rising again. We nodded together. It was a lie. We hadn't learned anything yet. And I don't think we ever would. "You are very lucky," he continued. And in that moment, I suppose we were lucky. We were all together and alive. We may have been damaged but together we were whole. If only that were the end of our story, but I'm afraid it's just the beginning.


	5. 4: I'm Still Alive but Barely Breathing

**Chapter 4**

**I'm Still Alive But I'm Barely Breathing**

I spent most of the afternoon in the hospital with my friends. They had taken new scans and had expected some change but found none. Doctors were telling us not to give up hope, that sometimes these things take time. But you could see a look hidden in their eyes that told us otherwise. Carlisle told us that no one was expecting this. They thought she would begin to recover from her injuries faster than this. But then again, the Volturi are good at what they do. If this is what they wanted for her, of course this is what was going to happen. But the doctors didn't know that though, so I couldn't really hold it against them. Carlisle had fed Rosalie's doctors a new story about her injuries. And I guess the doctors believed it because they didn't talk about any of it again.

By the evening we were all getting restless. Edward had left to go to the church chapel to pray for Rosalie's recovery and invited us to come along. We refused. He was the only one who seemed to believe in things like that. I didn't believe in church. I didn't believe in God. I didn't believe in prayer. I had foolishly tried all those things in my youth and look where it got me.

If there was a God out there… What kind of God would do this to Rosalie? And more importantly, to an innocent child that never got a chance? To Rosalie and Emmett's unborn child? To us? If there really was a God out there, how could he take away our parents and leave us all alone in the world? What kind of God would sentence us to this purgatory on earth?

Even if I don't believe, I can't fault Edward for it. For some reason the belief in God and the church and of its teachings brought Edward some comfort so I guess that's all that matters. All that bullshit made him happy. And if he was able to find something that made him happy, who am I to take that away? I'm still waiting to find my happiness.

And as the day slowly dragged on, I was suddenly sickened by my surroundings. It was the hospital; every minor detail of the hospital was revolting. By the evening I couldn't take it anymore. The strong smell of disinfectant. The overdone white crisp and cleanness of everything. The slow and steady beeping of machinery. The screaming and the crying. The sad looks. The heavy feelings of loss and death. So I excused myself and found my way back to the bar. It seemed like the best way to get my mind off of things.

The only thing that I knew would take my mind off everything was work. So I decided to open the bar. Before I unlocked the doors I cleaned a little. Not that there was much to do. The place was cleaned after the last closing and hadn't reopened since. But it made me feel better to keep myself busy. It gave my hands and my mind something to do. The customers didn't flock in as soon as I opened the bar. Not that it happened like that usually. But my regulars that frequented the bar after work had probably already seen my sign declaring a family emergency and found some other place to drink tonight. But low numbers were a familiar thing with this bar. Had I known at the time that I would be lucky if we broke even most nights I probably wouldn't have tried so damn hard to win that poker game. But even if I did nothing more than break even that was good enough for me. I had a roof over my head. I had a kitchen stocked with food and alcohol. And I was rarely alone.

I settled myself into a barstool and waited. And waited. And kept waiting for ten minutes before I thought I would lose my mind. I came home to be distracted. And now there was nothing there to distract me. I was alone with my thoughts. Images of Rosalie's battered body filled my head. And when I pushed them out it was names that consumed me. James Scott. Laurent Badeau. Victoria Rousseau. The names of the people my friends and I were considering killing. Alice had said that they were criminals and they deserved to die. But was that true?

All I knew about them were their names. The Volturi hadn't told Emmett much about them. Just that they were their rivals. Some new up and coming gang. But how bad can a group of three be? The Volturi was massive. They were organized. They were feared. They were lethal. They were the movie Mafia only worse. And real. How could those three be any sort of threat to the Volturi? And if they were really a threat to them why did they choose Emmett to take care of them? Why hadn't they gone to one of their professionals?

I looked down and found that my hands were trembling. I pushed all the thoughts from my mind and walked behind the counter. I took a few deep breaths, attempting to calm myself. It didn't work. My hands still shaking, I carefully poured myself a strong drink. I drank it slowly, allowing the liquor to burn my throat. After I finished I poured myself a second drink. Followed by a third. And finally a fourth. The morbid visions in my head finally turned to nothing but a thick haze and my hands had steadied.

I couldn't keep myself from thinking about it. It had to be addressed. We would make our final decision tomorrow night. It seemed so surreal that we were even considering it. The way we discussed it was almost casual. As if we knew it was coming. I always knew that Emmett would do anything for Rosalie and now I had my proof. And little Alice, she had so quickly agreed without even giving it a thought. She was always so sure of herself. I wish I had that. Edward wavered. He wanted to do whatever was in his power to help Rosalie but I don't think he can cross the line to murder. And Jasper was so dead set against it.

Even if Jasper wouldn't talk about his part in the war, I knew there was a very good possibility that he was faced with not only his own morality but he had most likely held Atropos's shears to the thread of someone's life and cut. But if he had already taken someone's life why would he be against it? He already knew what it was like to end someone's life. And maybe that's it. He was burdened with the knowledge the he had killed. He had been responsible for the death of another human being. He was responsible for the death of a perfect stranger that may or may not have deserved it.

I knew murder wouldn't be easy. It would come with consequences. But it broke Jasper. Could we do that? And if we could, would we fare any better than Jasper? Could we save Rosalie by killing three people and consequently ruining our own lives too? Was one life worth the destruction of 8?

I poured another drink. I had just over twenty-four hours to decide the fates of three strangers. And that didn't seem fair to me. I couldn't say whether they deserved to die or not. I couldn't tell you anything about them other than their names. I sipped at my drink and reached for the phone. If I knew more, if I knew anything about them, then I could make the decision. Or at least feel a little better about it.

I dialed the familiar number and almost chickened out when he answered. "Hey, Jake," I responded. My words slurred heavily from a combination of alcohol and fatigue.

"Bella," he released a disapproving sigh.

Things used to be different between us. He used to have a rebellious streak in him. We used to have a lot in common. He lost his mother when he was young and though he still had his father, he was restricted to a wheel chair. It gave him some issues. His teenage years were filled with alcohol like mine. It was nice to see someone from my life before struggle with the same things I was. But in the end, he was stronger. Where I still sought solace in the comfort and familiarity of sex and drugs, he got over it. And now he was a model citizen complete with a loving fiancé, a perpetual smile and even a police officer's uniform.

Now the threads of our friendship were wearing thin as he passed me by in life. He looked down on my lifestyle. He wanted me to grow and mature with him but that just wasn't in the cards for me. He tried to help. He doled out information on rehab, therapy, counseling, meetings, you name it. He lectured me until he was blue in the face every time I made a mistake. He offered help, support, love, friendship. He even opened his doors to me in hopes that if I could walk away from my bar, the rest would just magically fall into place. He offered everything that he had and then some. And none of it mattered. Because if you aren't willing to help yourself, no one else can. And he was beginning to realize that, he was beginning to turn a blind eye, to ignore all my issues and just wait out the storm. He had finally begun to lose hope in me. Or so I had thought until hearing that disapproving sigh.

"Save it for later," I struggled to keep myself from sounding totally bombed. I failed.

"Bells, what happened?" The condemnation vanished from his voice and was replaced with concern.

"Don't tell me that you haven't heard about Rosalie?" His silence confirmed his ignorance. "She's in the hospital. The-She was attacked." Was all I could manage before my throat swelled as the tears began to form. I took a moment to compose myself. Taking in a few deep gasping breaths and resisting the urge to pour myself another drink. When the moment passed, I struggled through the story. Surprised that he hadn't been informed, especially since this was a police matter and well, he was the police.

I could hear him rustling around in the background. "I'm heading down to the station. I'll find the officers assigned to the case and get you all the information they have," he spoke quickly. "I promise that I'll do everything I can to help." He didn't even let one second slip away before he was willing to throw out any plans he had for the night to look into the investigation for me and I hadn't even asked. He was too good of a friend for me.

"No, Jake. Don't. You don't need to." I already have those answers. I want to use you for something else. I was wracked with guilt at the thought of dragging him into this mess. "I mean… I have some… It can… I don't know."

"How much have you had to drink?"

I paused, not to count, I never counted. It never mattered how much I drank, it just mattered that I drank enough. Enough to forget. Enough to lessen the pain. Enough to feel normal. "Enough," I responded quietly. "I'm sorry," I apologized in advance.

"Don't be sorry, Bella. Words don't mean anything. Change-"

I wasn't prepared for a lecture. Not on why I should stop drinking. I had bigger things consuming my thoughts. So I cut him off. "Do you think I'm a good person?" He didn't answer me right away. And that was enough of an answer for me. "Do you think I'm a lost cause?"

"Bella, don't be ridiculous."

"No, I'm serious. I'm not a good person. I don't make the right choices for myself or for others. I keep making the same mistakes. And I'm not even sure if I want to change. So do I keep pretending that there is hope for me or do I just give up?"

"I'm coming over. Don't do anything stupid until I get there," I could hear the panic in his voice and realized that my drunken rambling was beginning to sound like a suicidal cry for help.

"No!" I shout. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm not… Jesus, Jake, I don't want to kill myself." Although that answer would be much easier than all the alternatives out there. "I just mean… I'm lost." And I've gotten very off topic. "I need some help."

"Bella, I'm always here for you. You know that."

"I know that," I inhaled deeply as I lit a cigarette. "That's why I called you. I need you to tell me what to do." He paused, waiting for me to continue. But how do you tell a cop that you are considering the act of murder not once but three times. "What if you could help someone? What if you could save their life? Would you?"

"Of course I would. That's my job."

"What if it wasn't your job," I argued.

"I could never stand back and watch someone die, Bella. No one should."

"But if the only way to do it was to…" But I couldn't find the words. There is no delicate way to explain and justify murder.

"Is this about Rosalie?" He questioned. "Do you know something? Do you know who hurt her?"

I ignored his direct questions. "I couldn't stop that. I didn't know… I don't know anything about that. But what if I had a chance to make it right?"

"Bella," his voice dropped to a soft gravely tone. "If you're planning something… Vengeance isn't the answer. If you know something, tell me, tell the police, let us handle it." That is not the kind of answer I was looking for.

"It's not about vengeance." How the hell was I going to get revenge against a group like The Volturi? They were untouchable. "It's not an eye for an eye sort of thing. It's about doing the right thing for the wrong reasons. Or doing the wrong thing for the right reasons. I'm not sure exactly how it works."

"Bella, you're scaring me. Let me come over. Let me help you. You're drunk and you shouldn't be alone."

The bells on the door chimed as if on cue. I watched Edward sulk in, offering me a smile before running up the stairs. "I'm not alone, Jake." Not that Edward was much in the way of company. "I'm fine. I'm just… I'm drunk. And I haven't slept in a long time. And I'm scared. I don't want to lose a friend. I don't have much. My friends are all I have."

"So let me come and be a friend," his voice was pleading.

"Honestly, I'm fine. I just need to sleep." Not that it would come easily, if at all.

"Isabella Marie Swan," his voice became firm again.

"Jacob Black. I really wish I knew your middle name."

"I'll never tell," he teased. "Are you sure you're fine?"

"Absolutely not. But I'll be okay for now," I sighed, snuffing out my cigarette. "Hey, not that this should be a priority at all right now but can you run some names for me?"

"Bella," he began to protest.

"I know, that's abusing your powers or some shit. Some guys came into the bar, interested in buying."

"That's great!" It's the best way to get what I want. He hates the bar. He thinks it's a horrible influence for me and I'm sure he would jump at the chance for me to sell it off and move on with my life, hoping that I would mature and somehow morph into something that could pass as a fully functioning human being. I hate to use him but I think it's a necessary evil right now.

"I just wanted to know if they were for real or just bullshitting me." I hate lying. I'm a terrible liar. But not seeing him face to face helps. And it is the easiest way to get what I want right now is to just outright lie and keep on doing it. And to him that false hope of me selling the bar is really an awful abuse of our friendship but it's the only way I can think of to get him to break his strict ethical codes and give me exactly what I want. There is no doubt in my mind that if there is life after death, I will spend them burning in hell.

"You know I'm not supposed to but I think I can sneak it in. Let me get a pen to write the names down."

I rattled off the names quickly and he promised me full background checks and anything else he could manage to get his hands on. I hated to lie to him. And I hated to use him even more. I felt dirty and guilty, so I poured another drink. But how else was I going to get my answers. He didn't offer me any viable suggestions. No good advice. So it's time I take another approach. If I knew them. If I had information. I could make an informed decision. Maybe they were good people; maybe they didn't deserve the reputation The Volturi had given them. And maybe they lived it up to it and then some. But either way I had to know.

"Thanks, Jake."

"Anytime, Bells. I'll stop by tomorrow, give you the info you want. And hopefully talk to a sober Bella that makes sense."

"I make no guarantees."

"Call me if you need anything. I'm always here."

"I know. Thank you. But really, I'm going to be alright. Well, after the hangovers gone," I chuckled. "Goodbye, Jake."

"See you tomorrow, Bella."

I hung the phone back on the receiver and ran my fingers through my hair. The door bells chimed my first costumer of the night. I stood from the stool and the world spun beneath my feet. "Fuck," I cursed under my breath as I clutched the barstool for balance and waited for the earth to stop spinning. I should know better than to drink like that while I'm supposed to be working, alone.

"Let me help," Edward insisted, appearing at my side. He set me back on the stool and got behind the bar. He filled a mug with steaming coffee and pushed it in my direction before he turned his attention to the man three seats to my right. "What can I get for you?" He flashed his award winning smile and filled the man's drink order. How did such a fucked up person like myself get such amazing friends?

Shortly after the customers began to fill into my bar Alice and Jasper returned to help. It seemed like they had the same idea. Keep busy so you won't have to stop and think about Rosalie. Keep going so you won't have to think about tomorrow's meeting.

I didn't want to think about it. The more I thought about it, the more conflicted I became. I wanted nothing more than to be able to help Rosalie. But could I murder to do it? Would we even be able to get away with it? Would I spend the rest of my life behind bars with blood on my hands? I knew I thought I could. I always thought that if I was given a choice that it would be easy. I would die and I would kill to protect the ones that I love. But when you're actually put in the situation it suddenly doesn't seem so easy.

It didn't take long for the coffee to kick in and lessen the effects of the alcohol. And once the bar stopped spinning, I got to work. And I kept working. I filled drinks. I engaged in small talk. I cleaned. I served. I cooked. I did anything and everything to keep my body so busy that my mind didn't have time to think. And before I knew it, it was closing time. It was the first time since I became the owner of this bar that I was sad to see it close. I wanted the distraction that it offered. I didn't care that my body was screaming for a break. I didn't care that my mind begged for sleep or that my muscles ached for rest. But I had to escort people from my building and lock the doors behind them.

My three friends disappeared upstairs as soon as the doors closed. They were weary and begging for sleep. I wasn't ready for sleep. I knew it wouldn't come easy. And when it did, I knew it would be plagued with nightmares. So I kept cleaning. I swept. I mopped. I scrubbed every inch of every surface I could find. And when that was done I still wasn't ready. I rested my sore body on a stool and drank. I drank for sleep. I drank to chase away my demons and my memories. I wasn't ready to face them yet. I still had twenty four hours for that. And I would wait until the last possible second.

After four glasses of hard liquor my mind was gone and my eyes began to droop. I was finally ready to resign to my bed. And I was right. Sleep didn't come quick or easy. I tossed and I turned. And when sleep finally came I didn't dream. I suffered through nightmares.

I woke up in a cold sweat. My heart was racing. My lungs drew in long heavy breaths of air but it wasn't enough. I was having a full blown panic attack. If this situation wasn't resolved quickly it was going to be the death of _me_. My sudden panic was just the result of another nightmare I couldn't remember. Something that was beginning to feel all too familiar. It didn't take long to clam, just a few slow, deep breaths.

And in my quiet stillness I became aware of music. I must have left the jukebox on in my late night daze. I glanced at the clock, it was only five. A nice one hour nap to refresh me for what was going to be one of the worst days of my life. It wasn't even long enough to sober up. I was still buzzed. Not quite drunk anymore, just a healthy buzz, but I could remedy that fast enough.

I got out of bed and didn't bother to dress. It's my place and if anyone has a problem with me walking around in no more than an old T-shirt and panties to hell with them. As I started down the steps and I realized that it wasn't the jukebox I was hearing, it was the dusty old piano in the corner of the bar. I didn't know it even worked. It was left there from the previous owner and I liked the way it looked. No one ever played it. But it still seemed to at least give the allusion of class to my small dive bar.

When I reached the bottom I stopped and sat on the last step. Seated on the bench was Edward. His eyes closed tightly as his long, graceful fingers floated quickly over the keys. I wasn't familiar with the tune. But it was beautiful. It was soft and quiet and held a slightly depressing tone. It was perfect for my mood. I watched and listened as the song ended before I made my way over to him and made my presence known.

"That was beautiful," I said, leaning against the wall beside him. Our eyes locked and a shiver ran up my spine. Those eyes are spectacular.

"I'm sorry," he replied looking away from me. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't." I shrugged. "I couldn't sleep."

He shrugged, his fingers lazily dancing over the keys just to fill the room with sound. "Seems to be going around." And neither one of us was willing to discuss why. So we sat just listening to the soft notes as he played for a distraction.

"What was that? The song you were playing?" I broke the silence.

"Oh," he sighed, his fingers freezing over the keys. "It doesn't have a name. I just… I was just messing around."

"You wrote that?" He nodded. "That's amazing." I locked eyes with him again and felt that same shiver run through me. I've been with so many guys in my life and no one has been able to do this to me. I looked away suddenly feeling subconscious with his eyes on me. "It was… beautiful." I looked up to meet his smoldering gaze and felt weak in the knees. Talk about beautiful. He was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. "I missed you." My comment surprised him as much as it did me. "Why did you leave? Why didn't you call? Why did you come back? Why…why do you hate me so much?" I was close to tears as I questioned him in a way that was more like venting.

"I'm sorry," he apologized again. "It's complicated."

"So am I." I shrugged. "So I think I can follow."

"You… I…" he struggled to find words. "I don't hate you. I could never hate you," he spoke softly and couldn't find it in himself to look me in the eye. "I just don't trust myself around you."

"What?" I draw my brow in confusion and anger. "What sort of bullshit is that? What does that mean?"

"You…You're… I can't explain it, Bella." His brow knitted together and his expression looked pained. "It doesn't make sense. It never made sense. But from the moment that we met I couldn't… You're so beautiful," his words were softer than a whisper; I had to inch closer to him just to hear. "And every time I'm around you… I just want… I want to touch you." His eyes finally met mine again. His green eyes flickered with an emotion I had never seen in him before. He looked relieved, remorseful and in pain all at the same time.

I sat beside him on the piano bench. All these years, I thought he hated me and the truth is he was struggling with the same emotions as I was. "What's stopping you?" my voice was soft. My hands came up to his cheeks and pulled his face to mine, our foreheads gently resting against one another. I wanted to offer him comfort. I wanted to erase that look of pain on his face and replace it with a smile.

"I can't," he said, pulling away from me. "It's not right. I shouldn't."

I inched my body closer to his. "What if I want you to?" I said looking up at him through my eyelashes. My mouth was set in a soft and sexy pout and my fingers danced around the hem of his shirt. He looked so fragile and so scared.

"No, Bella," he breathed heavily. He turned away the pained look on his face growing more pronounced.

"Please," I begged. I needed it. I've needed it for so long. "Touch me, Edward. Touch me." My voice was soft but demanding as I twisted and positioned myself on his lap, straddling him.

"Bella, don't." He fought against me, digging his fingers deeply into my hips in protest.

"Please," I pleaded. I pressed my body against his, my soft breasts meeting his hard chest. My hands held his face in place, forcing our heads together again. "Please, Edward. I want… I need…"

But I never got to finish. He finally gave in as his lips met mine with a bruising force. He moaned into my mouth as he pushed my hips down harder against him, making me grind against his now prominent erection. His fingers left my hips and traveled under my shirt and teased my bare back. He pulled away just long enough to release my body from the T-shirt and carelessly throw it aside. Our kisses were hungry, filled with the tension we still held from the last time we kissed.

We were two people who were hurting so much in exactly the same way that we fit together like pieces of the same puzzle. It was passion. It was lust. It was comfort. It was friendship. And it was a long time coming.

My hands separated us just enough for me to unclasp his belt. A gasping sob fell from his lips as he pulled away. "Stop," he cried breathlessly, pushing me off of him. "I can't." He buckled his belt again and ran his fingers through his tousled bronze locks. "I'm sorry," he apologized for the third time of our brief conversation.

"Why?" I shouted. I waited a moment for a response but when I never got one the anger boiled over. "What is it about me that you can't stand?"

"Bella, you don't understand. It's not you." He shouted back at me. "I told you that I can't. We can't. It's not…I just can't do this." He turned to the door.

"Why?" I chased after him. "Just give me _one_ reason. You say that you don't hate me. But it's the only thing that makes sense."

"I can't be around you, Bella. I'm sorry. But I just can't."

"Why?" I continued to demand. "You kiss me and then you run away. That's twice now. I don't understand your mixed signals."

"It's not…" he sighed. "I want to be with you. I wish I could. But I can't. I'm sorry," he whispered, not able to look me in the eyes.

"Stop apologizing and just give me a real answer!"

He walked to me, getting his jacket from the back of a chair and draping it around my shoulders. "Get some sleep, Bella," he said quietly before placing a kiss on my forehead. And with that he disappeared, walking out the door and not looking back. I only hoped that it wouldn't be another seven years before I saw him again.


	6. 5: Always Thought We Were Different

**Chapter 5**

**Always Thought We Were Different **

I stared at the door for over a minute just trying to figure out what happened. It was much harder than it sounded. I was still much more drunk than I was willing to admit out loud. And I was beginning to think that it still wasn't enough. My mind was still consumed with thoughts of how much I hated Edward or how much he hated me; I guess it really depends on how you look at it. On top of that I still couldn't shake the image of Rosalie lying in the hospital bed. And of course the very important meeting looming over all our heads that was going to take place in less than 24 hours. And pile up extreme sleep depravation on top of that… it's a wonder I haven't gone completely insane yet. I should sleep. A normal person would sleep. But I didn't want to sleep.

And after only a moments thought I found my solution, get behind the bar and empty an entire bottle of the first thing my hand grasped. I marched across the room and didn't even bother with a glass as I reached for a bottle. I closed my eyes and swallowed a mouthful quickly. Vodka. It would do. I opened my eyes and was surprised to see Alice and Jasper standing at the foot of the steps. I brought the bottle back to my lips and chugged.

"Sweetie," Alice said softly.

I ignored her while I took another drink. The only way I'm going to get through this conversation is if I'm barely conscious for it. "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough," she said coming towards me. "But not long enough to know why your shirt is on the floor."

"Like you don't already know," Jasper whispered under his breath just loud enough for me to hear as he passed. He kept his eyes off of me, awkwardly staring into the corner of the room, just past Alice. He picked up my T-shirt from the floor and threw it to perfectly land on the counter in front of me. I suppose I should feel embarrassed and put my shirt back on but I just can't seem to care right now. Like I said, it's my place and if I want to be naked, I will be naked. To hell with all those health codes!

"Jazz," Alice acknowledged him. "You go with Edward. He needs a friend too," she had said it more like a question, some kind of secret hidden carefully in her words. Why did it feel like everyone around me was keeping secrets? He nodded and was out the door fast enough to make my head spin. "Want to talk?" Alice said, lowering herself onto the barstool in front of me.

"No," I sighed. "I want to drink. And drink profusely."

"Bella," she sighed. "At least put your shirt back on." She pushed the ball of fabric towards me and I gave in. I needed it. I wasn't yet drunk enough to not notice how cold it was in here. "Now, talk." I eyed her angrily and she just shrugged. "You can talk and drink at the same time." She shrugged her shoulders in defeat.

"I don't know where to start," I sighed. I paused a moment to collect my thoughts, and more importantly to drink. I wasn't going to make it through the next few days if I was even remotely close to being sober. "I don't get it. I don't get any of it," I started but stopped myself as I lit a cigarette. "No, that's a lie. I get Edward or at least I think I'm beginning to. I understand that he's just an asshole that likes fucking with my emotions and just everything about me."

"Bella, it's not like that. I know that-" Alice interrupted but I help up my hand to silence her as I continued to rant.

"You wanted me to talk so I'm just going to lay it all out for you. But don't worry, you'll get your chance to answer soon enough." I paused briefly to make sure she would listen. Listening was not Alice's best quality. "There is one thing that I really don't get and it's been bugging the shit out of me since he got back." I took another long drink and stared directly into Alice's deep brown eyes. "He left us. He walked out on us and he never said a word. Then one day, six fucking years later, he just shows up. He knows exactly where we are." I shrugged and snuffed out my cigarette. "I was surprised as shit to see him. But you… all of you… you weren't surprised the slightest were you?"

Alice looked away from me and slowly shook her head. "No, he used to call all of us," her voice was soft and timid. "He made us promise not to tell you. We all thought it was stupid but… It wasn't for us to tell you, I guess."

I took another long drink to help quell my anger. "I thought he was dead. I waited months for someone to hear something. And after a year, I assumed the worst. Because people don't just walk away from their friends like that, you know."

"I'm sorry," Alice apologized meekly.

"Sorry?" I scoff. "It's going to take a lot more than a sorry to help fix this mess. Alice, you're my best friend and you couldn't tell me the truth?"

"I didn't lie to you. I just never mentioned it. I wanted to tell you but he asked me not to."

"Why?"

"Bella, you should ask him," she countered.

"I don't want to ask him. I don't want to talk to him. I don't particularly want to see him again."

"Just give him a chance. Let him explain…"

"Is he married? Seeing someone? Gay? Just a douche? Is it me? I just want to know. Alice, I need to know." She looked away from me again and sat silently.

"Jasper will be back soon and Edward should be with him. You can ask him all those questions later. But I promised not to tell."

"You're my best friend!" I shouted, slamming my empty fists onto the countertop. "You're supposed to be able to tell me anything. We promised not to keep secrets!"

"It's not a secret I just think he should be the one to tell you. It's not a big deal. If he won't do it then I will. Just give him a chance."

"I already gave him a chance," I stared at her for a long minute before giving up. "What?" I question, my voice still dripping with venom. "Now you don't want to talk?" I took another drink and stood from my barstool. "Fuck it. It doesn't matter. I've got other shit to do."

"Bella, please. Just wait," Alice called after me. I ignored Alice and I walked up the steps with an angry determination. Determination for what? I wasn't really sure.

I took another long swig from the bottle, trying to keep myself from thinking. But it was useless. Thoughts raced through my mind at an alarming rate. Did I want to lock myself in my bedroom and cry from Edwards's hot and cold affection for me? Did I want to simply wallow in my self pity? Did I want to seek revenge on him? Did I want to hurt him and make him be having these thoughts? Did I want to search him out and force him to change his mind? Did I finally want to stop and consider our great dilemma that would result in murder? Or did I need an escape from this mess that I call my life? Seek solace in my wayward lifestyle of cigarettes, liquor, sex and drugs? I find comfort in familiarity so who the hell am I to turn down the companionship of my recurrent and much loved vices?

I waged a war against my drooping eyelids and reached for the phone. As I listened to it ring, begging for there to be a warm welcome on the other end, I lit a cigarette.

"Hello," there wasn't even a trace of sleep in the voice. A promising start.

"Hey," I responded, lowering my pitch to a low and sexy growl. "I'm looking for some fun. And you are the first person that I thought of."

His name was Mike Newton. I met him a few weeks ago in the bar. He was far from my type, pushy and way too eager. But I was lonely and desperate, not to mention slightly drunk and looking to go much farther than that as soon as I locked I closed down the bar. He was exactly what I needed that night. And he was willing to share his supply of cocaine for the night. So it was good enough for me.

"Yeah," his voice perked at the suggestion my voice and words implied. "Yeah, of course. Who is this?"

I offered a giggle. Of course he wouldn't remember, I hardly remember. And that is why I'm calling him. "Bella."

"Bella," he sighed in question. "Bella…Bella…Bella…" the name rolled off his tongue as he tried to place it.

"From-"

"Bella!" he shouted in recognition. "I remember. I also remember you saying you wouldn't call."

"No, I said I wasn't going to call looking for a date or a boyfriend. I said nothing about calling to continue a casual sexual relationship," I offered. "And if you're really lucky maybe some heavy drinking and illicit drug use on the side?"

"I'll be there in ten," he promised hurriedly before the line went dead.

He made good on his promise. It was just over 9 minutes before he burst through my bedroom door. There was no exchange of pleasantries, he took two long strides across the room and was on top of me in an instant. I didn't fight him off. I welcomed the feeling of being wanted.

His hands were quick and needy. And not the good kind of needy, the kind filled with unbridled passion. It was more like the drunken pawing of a desperate man. This is not what I remembered from the last time. But I guess I can't rely on my memories of last time. They were tainted, as usual.

And as quickly as it had started he pulled away. He pulled a baggie out of his back pocket and smirked. "Before or after?" he asked, raising his eyebrow.

My only response was to grab the bag from him with a smile. "It's almost creepy how well you know me after spending just one night with me." It wasn't cocaine this time. I couldn't even tell you what it was actually. Just a bag of pills, it was less than desirable. Pills took too long to take effect. But I'm sure chasing it with a bottle of vodka would help to speed up the process a little bit. I didn't even ask what it was before I popped two pills. I looked to him, my expression asking if that would be enough, he shrugged and swallowed two for himself. There was still enough left for later if it wasn't.

We lay back on the bed and waited for the drug to kick in. While we lay his hands again began to roam over my body. His hands moved slowly and still lacked the passion. I lay motionless, trying to enjoy the feeling of hands caressing me. His lips found their way to mine and mine moved with his in perfect rhythm. But there was still no passion. My heart was not racing in anticipation and I began to wonder if it ever had before. Was sex always like this for me? Didn't I enjoy it so much more before? Where was the passion? I knew I had it in me. I had felt it before… Right?

As things began to progress I could feel the drug slowly seeping into every cell of my body. And as it spread all the pain and worry I was holding on to slowly began to numb. I sat on the bed and savored the feeling of all my troubles being lifted away and replaced with a calmness. It lasted only a few seconds before I heard the front door slam shut. I saw Jasper fly through my periphery, he was nothing more than a quick flash of blonde hair as he raced to find comfort from the outside world in Alice.

Mike's hands traveled across my body, waiting for me to give him a sign to move farther but I stayed still and silent. The drugs did what I wanted them too, they freed my mind. But I think that they took away a lot more than just my thoughts. I lacked basic passion that moments like these were supposed to be made of. Fuck these drugs. Why did he have to bring fucking downers?

I stood quickly, ignoring Mike's protests, and walked across the room searching for a pack of cigarettes. Maybe I just needed some time. Time. Cigarettes. And more alcohol. I grabbed the bottle of Vodka from my dresser and the reflection in my mirror caught my attention. Edward sitting on my sofa, his head between his knees cradled in his hands. I turned around sharply and stared at him as a surprised gasp escaped me. The bottle fell through my fingers and crashed on the floor. At the sound of it shattering Edward's head snapped up and his eyes met mine.

And for one second all of my anger towards him faded away. Because he looked defeated and so fucking sad. Our eyes were locked on one another for a long minute before my attention was pulled away when Mike came from behind me and wrapped his arms around me. He gently bit my lip and growled low in my ear, "Who's that?"

I tore my eyes away from Edward for a second and pulled myself away from Mike. "No one," I said shaking my head slightly. I looked back to Edward and every trace of sadness on his face was replaced with rage. His hateful looked made my anger swell again and I stalked across the room ready to slam the door on him. But as my hand fell on the doorframe I had another much more brilliant idea. I left the door wide open and smiled as Mike again made his way to me. First, I swallowed another pill with another long swig from the bottle of Jack that Mike had brought up with him. Then, I pulled Mike close to me and I pressed my lips against his. Even if my passion was lost at the moment I did my best to fake it. I pressed my body against his and moaned loudly as his hands roamed freely across my body. My eyes stayed open the entire time to glare at Edward, letting him know what he could have had.

Edward reciprocated my glare as he walked down the hall and pulled me away from Mike. "We need to talk," he growled, pulling his vision away from me and staring at the wall beside me.

I shrugged and leaned against the doorframe for support, the drugs were now in full effect and I was beginning to feel unsteady on my feet. "If you were paying attention, you'd see that I'm not exactly in the mood for talking right now."

"And if you were paying attention, you would see that I don't exactly give a shit," he grabbed my arm and pulled me into the hallway with him.

"Get your fucking hands off her!" Mike shouted, attempting to come to my rescue but Edward shut the door in his face. A barrage of curses filtered through the door. "I'm going to fucking kick your ass!"

The door swung open and I stared Mike down. "Let me handle this," I begged. "Just wait for me in bed. And calm the fuck down," I directed him, throwing the bag of pills at him. Mike followed my commands and slammed the door shut behind him. "What do you want?" He didn't answer me, he just continued to stare at the wall. "Hurry up, I'm kind of in the middle of something."

He didn't respond to me immediately. He didn't even look at me. He just kept staring at the wall beside me. The anger was still there but it was less prominent, as some of the sadness crept back. "Who is he?" he asked his tone casual and monotone keeping his emotion distant from his voice. His words were slow and steady and if I wasn't staring at him I would have missed his nostrils flare in silent anger that he tried to hide from me.

I shrugged trying to be as cool and collected as he was. "A friend," I responded softly before chewing on my bottom lip.

"I thought I knew all your friends," he sighed finally meeting my gaze. "I thought I was your friend."

"You were."

"So that's how it's going to be? I won't sleep with you so now we can't be friends?" He shook his head slowly as he glared at me. He turned away from me and took one step before my anger welled and boiled over.

"What? Now I'm the bad guy?" I shouted, forcing him to turn and face me again. "I've been nothing but honest with you from the beginning! I never said we couldn't be friends! You decided that all on your own. You left and you never called me! You called everyone else but you left me to assume that you were dead! Do you know how that makes me feel?" I shouted, pushing him roughly but he barely moved. "And now all the sudden you want to be friends, or what? Because for a moment it seemed like you wanted more. And this is very confusing for me. I just want you to pick one. Be my friend. Be more. Be nothing. But you can't be all three. Just be _one_ Goddamn thing!" My eyes burned with the hint of new tears. "I've done a lot of bad things and I've made my fair share of mistakes in my life but not this time. This is the one time in my life where _I'm_ not the one making the mistake. _I'm_ not the one that keeps running away every time I feel something!"

His expression was blank as he stared at me. "It's just better that way," he said, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"For who?" I continued to shout. "You?" I questioned, my heart thumping wildly. "Goddamn it, Edward! You always try to play the good guy. You go to church and you pray. You don't break the law. You follow the rules. But all those things don't make you a good person!" The tears finally spilled over and streamed freely down my cheeks as I continued my rant. "Good people don't do this. They don't act like this. Good people don't lead people on. They don't make people cry. They don't let anyone down. They do what ever it takes to make everyone else around them happy. They don't run away from problems, they fix them. And they are _not_ this fucking selfish!" By the time I had finished I could hardly breathe. My lungs pulled in desperate breaths of air as I leaned against the wall for support.

Edward backed himself up against the wall across from me. "You're right," he sighed. All the anger had drained from him and all that was left was a desperate sadness. There was a long pause as we both tried to collect our thoughts. My head was reeling and the room almost seemed to be spinning. I was still panting out of breath and my heart was racing to rapidly that it felt like it would come right through my chest. Edward was the first to break the silence. "You don't want to know me," his voice had lowered to a whisper as he again looked away from me.

"It's a little too late for that!" I spat. The room was still spinning and I closed my eyes and forced a few deep breaths.

"I'm sorry," he whispered his apology. "Maybe I should go," he suggested.

My eyes snapped open and stared at him. He wasn't joking. After all my yelling he still wanted to run away. "Yeah," I chocked out softly. "Maybe."

"I'll find somewhere else to stay until Rose gets better and then you'll never see me again."

"Sure." I began to chew on my nails nervously.

Edward stared at me for a moment. And I stared right back at him studying his every feature because it could be my last; brow was drawn together deep in thought, jaw clenched in anger, hands held nervously into tight fists, green eyes radiating emotion rarely seen in him. His breathing was coming in quick and heavy pants as he turned to leave. I knew I should be angry that he was running away from me again. But all I could feel was a big aching whole in my chest filled with loneliness. Sure I had my other friends but they were together and I was often left alone. It was nice to have someone else to be alone with sometimes.

I wanted to speak and beg him to stay but instead I watched him slowly walk down the hall. My body slumped against the wall, not being able to hold its full weight up anymore. As he reached the end of the small narrow hallway he paused, his entire body stiffened. He stayed frozen for a minute before he quickly turned around and stalked down the hall and back to me. He was no longer tense but relaxed as he took my face in his soft hands and kissed me. The kiss left off right where we were earlier in the night. There was no slow and tentative exploration. It was rough and filled with longing.

His right hand tangled in my hair while his left hand dropped from my face. His hand traced a pattern down my rib cage, gently grazing the side of my breast, across to my back and forcing me closer to him. His hand then traveled lower and settled on my ass underneath the long T-shirt. My heart began to race even more in anticipation.

His right hand stayed tangled in my hair as he hoisted me up with the other, keeping me braced carefully. He pressed my back up against the wall as I wrapped my legs around him, feeling his arousal through his jeans. His lips left mine and traced a line down my jaw. He paused for a moment to speak. "I'm tired of fighting it, Bella," he breathed his voice heavy with lust. "Six years. It's been six years that I've been hiding from this, from you, from myself. I've been avoiding you for my own selfish reasons. And I'm so tired of it." His mouth found mine again for a quick kiss. "I've been wanting to do this since the moment I laid eyes on you."

I grind my hips against his and watch his eyes roll back in his head as he lets out a low moan. I run my fingers through his silky smooth hair and bring his lips back to mine again. I grind my hips against his again and immediately feel one of his hands between us, unbuckling his belt. I opened my eyes but the light of the hall was suddenly blinding. I forced my eyes closed again and held on even tighter to Edward as he kissed my lips… my neck… how were his lips everywhere all at once? I opened my eyes only to now find blackness. I tried to pull away but my muscles refused to respond. The sound of our labored breathing was slowly fading away and was replaced by the sound of my beating heart. And slowly that too began to fade away into nothing more than a soft and distant ringing of a bell then finally nothing at all.

Fuck Mike Newton. And fuck his pills for ruining a perfectly good night.


End file.
